


No Strings Could Secure You

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Series: No Strings Could Secure You [1]
Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, F/M, M/M, alternative universe, based on farhenheit 451, media ban
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 16:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6665287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: The Media Freeze took away all music, movies, and gaming systems to sterilize citizens of any excessive emotions and let them live their own lives. Media Agent Jared Padalecki upholds the Freeze, destroying media and arresting those who possess it. But his world viewpoint is skewed when he watches a TV show and experiences what all the offenders have – raw emotion. His life is further upended when he builds a friendship with actor Jensen Ackles, who turns him onto more entertainment and opens his eyes to the beauty of this creative world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, which, while being kind of tough to stomach with stilted dialogue and descriptions, absolutely blew my mind. Title from Cream’s “White Room.”

At seven years old, Jared doesn’t know how or when the Media Freeze started, but it’s the only life he knows and lives. No television, no movie theaters, no book stores. No one has access to any product even associated with those places. And if you’re found with it … well, Jared isn’t entirely sure what happens, but it’s enough to strike fear in his mother’s eyes if he ever mentions it. He used to spend nearly every clear day with Stephanie Robinson from next door, riding bikes up and down the pavement, running through neighboring yards, and all around being playful children. But one day, her house was empty, the lawn had distinctive burn marks in its center, and his mom couldn’t – or just wouldn’t – explain where they’d gone or why. It was like the Robinsons had never existed.

Even while he knows the Media Freeze was first handed down when he was unable to put two words together and his mother was adamant it was the best idea ever, he looked elsewhere for answers. Mostly because her reply is always _Had to be done, Jared. You wouldn’t understand._ He’s become one of those kids sitting on his grandfather’s lap and asking “Pa, what was it like when you had TV?” Using his bright eyes to curl right into the man’s heart so it will relinquish all those memories. 

“There were dreams and lives that you‘d never imagine. They had colors so beautiful you felt your heart leap right outta your stomach.”

Jared’s eyes widen and he excitedly scoots closer to his grandfather’s chest. “What kinds of things did they show?”

“Love stories and car chases. Sometimes just people being people.”

“Like what?” he asks quietly, still in wonder with it all.

“Just living around each other, all the different people trying so hard to get along. Jaybear, you have no idea the love people had for each other. They put it right before our eyes to see what it really could be like.”

Every time his grandfather goes on with the captivating memories, his mother comes by with a strained smile, “Daddy, let’s not fill Jared will silliness.” She grabs Jared’s hand and leads him away, nudging him outside to play. 

As always, Jared stares back at the house, a dreamy smile as he plays back his grandfather’s words, the way the man’s face glazes over with a sweet smile and relives all the things he’s seen in his life. Jared longs to know what it really is, and he daydreams his playdates this way … thinking of the amazing adventures people put to film, how there would be cowboy gunfights and beach sunsets and people laughing and crying over so many untapped emotions, just as Pa describes. 

Some nights, Jared sneaks his way out of bed and snatches up the telephone, dialing and nearly waking his grandfather. “Pa! Tell me about the TV show again!”

“Well, Jaybear, there was a professor, and a movie star …”

Later in the phone call, Jared breaks out, “But they get off the island, right?!”

“Yeah, kiddo, _years_ later. But they did it.”

“Wow! They lived on the island all that time? They didn’t get sick?”

He can hear his grandfather’s bright smile. “They took care of each other. The professor could build anything out of a coconut.”

Jared laughs. “That’s impossible!”

“Nah, Jaybear. That’s TV.”

*

What Jared does know about the Freeze comes in tiny morsels of dropped information that he overhears from conversations his mother and father don’t know he sneaks up on. The Freeze isn’t in full effect – hasn’t hit his neighborhood yet – but it’s coming and she’s priming them all for the switch, insisting all media be removed. The cornerfolk – the only place his mother gets any of her news, despite the fact that the corners are usually full of gossiping, harpy old women who have nothing better to do – had told her it was best to prepare in advance, trash _everything_. 

She mentions to his father how the Jennings across the way allow their children to watch cartoons with a giant, talking dinosaur that only has kids as friends. “I don’t even get it. It’s like a pedophile,” she says tiredly. 

His father chuckles, like he’s amused by her. “He teaches kids to be nice to each other.”

“It’s just not right. A man in a giant, purple suit, hugging little children.”

Another time she’s complaining about the Walt Disney dynasty and how the movies always feature a fearful enemy. “They’re practically killing people on _screen_! Kids are going to start fighting with each other. Not to mention crying over every single threat in their lives. Afraid that some monster will come get them.”

His father sighs, “We’re here to explain these kinds of things. To protect them from the dangers in life. Jared will be fine.”

“I don’t want him watching those things. I won’t let him be afraid of the dark or worry that someone’s out to get him.”

And Jared really was never worried about monsters under the bed or in his closet. The lone thing he ever really fears are his mother’s turns of mood, when she’s all smiles and hugs and love and cookies, but the minute he mentions a movie a friend told him about, her face stiffens, as does her back and her arms and hands. “Jared,” she warns him. “You know you’re not supposed to see those things.”

“But why?” he whines while stomping his foot. “Stevie said it was funny and he laughed the whole time. There were no monsters or bad words or _anything_!”

She rubs a hand over the top of his hair, mucking it up and irritating him further. “Honey, it’s not right. You don’t need those things.”

*

 _Everything_ is outlawed to protect the children, she claims throughout the years. To keep them from fearing the dark or enemies from movies, to avoid nightmares. Jared argues that maybe he could watch the happy, fun movies that were intended for kids his age. But she argues back that one movie will lead to ten, which will lead to a hundred. And they wouldn’t be able to stop from there. 

When he visits with his grandfather, he stands before the man and asks why his mother is so afraid of the media. 

“She doesn’t like what she can’t control.”

His fingers tap at his grandfather’s knees as nervous energy dissipates with the patience he sees in the old eyes. “But they had movies and TV when she was growing up, right?”

“It wasn’t the same then,” his grandfather sadly smiles at him. “Those stories were sweet and ended easily, all grins and hugs. People felt good about everything.”

Jared crawls into his grandfather’s lap and asks earnestly, “How do they end now?”

“Well … like real life, I suppose.” He tucks Jared in tight against his chest, as if sharing the story with his words and the warmth of his embrace. “Not everyone smiles at the end of the day, no?”

“No,” Jared mumbles in return. Then he looks up at his grandfather. “Sometimes I’m sad I can’t watch the movies, or listen to my radio anymore.”

“Right-o,” he grins down on the top of Jared’s head. “They don’t want people to be sad anymore and they say the movies and the books tell bad stories and make them said.”

“I don’t care about the _books_ ,” he pouts back.

His grandfather laughs and it echoes in his chest, rumbling Jared as well. They both smile. “Jaybear, the books are just as good. You don’t see everything plain as day. You get to use your _imagination_.”

Even while those words make Jared even more glum about what the Media Freeze is taking away from him, he cherishes his grandfather sharing so much with him. The man always answers Jared honestly, taking him into his lap and smiling with all his stories. Not leaving a single thing out and always sounding so awed by it all. Always giving Jared the best-formulated responses to all his wonders. Jared adores him for it.

*

Two months after his twelfth birthday, Jared watches his father, two uncles, and his eldest cousin lower a casket into a six-foot-deep hole. He’s crying because it’s his grandfather in that box. And with him goes all the stories and tales of TV and books and movies. He cries for all the hugs he’ll never have, the laughter they won’t share, for never seeing his grandfather again. And in the middle of the night, he cries a full hour for the fact that he’ll never hear another story again.


	2. Part One

_Fifteen Years Later_

Jared wakes without even knowing what got to him. He stares at the ceiling in the Media Agent’s Lounge, the same non-descript tan tiles that line every room of this building, and listens for the alarm. It’s not there, so he’s still confused as to what happened. He rises in bed, stares around the room. He spots Chad, his partner, still sleeping well enough, snoring his way through the early morning hours. The next bed over is Jake, the new kid, and one further holds his boss, who seems to sense the disruption in the night.

“What’re you doing, Pads?” Jeff asks low, but sounding interested.

Jared blinks away some sleepiness and wipes a hand down his face. He’d only grabbed three hours of sleep so far and as long as he’s not disturbed again, he’s owed at least another four before going home. “Nothin’.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jared bends back into the mattress and begs for sleep again, but his brain isn’t listening. Worse yet, just forty-two minutes later, the alarm sounds, forcing all four from their cots. 

Chad grumbles while working his blue worksuit up and buttoning the top closed. “How is this even possible?”

“Hmm?” Jared asks while fixing his own set of blues and wiping hair away from his face. 

“You’d think twenty years would be long enough to wipe all this shit off the land.”

Jeff comes up, patting a hand at Chad’s shoulder. “Never enough time to do that.”

As they amble out the door and down narrow stairs, Jake speaks up, a little excited. “Hey, I heard from this kid down the street that they’re making recording devices to replicate discs. How have they not outlawed them either?”

Jared’s eyebrow goes high in disinterest as Jeff schools the kids in the way their world works. How criminalizing things don’t make them extinct, but it does make the criminals more savvy in ways to run around the rules. And how Discers – those who have actual evidence of old media – have been doing their best to get everything underground for easy trade and viewing. Jared’s heard about clubs across the city that offer late night viewings of what they call The Classics, but he’s not even sure what that would entail. One time, in his grandfather’s living room, he saw a movie that showed space travel and swords made of red and blue lights. He had called it a New Classic and insisted Jared watch it. His mother had rushed in, swept up the movie player. The Media Freeze had already been made official in his neighborhood, while other areas took longer to implement. So his grandfather argued that he was safe from the ban because his block wasn’t there yet. It was the last time Jared visited his grandfather’s house.

As the four ride in the work van to the address Jeff had been given, Jake leans up from the back seat. “You guys ever see one?”

“What? A movie?” Chad asks, sounding annoyed. He still hasn’t totally warmed up to the new guy, and he also hates most questions. 

“Yeah. I heard there were still some around last decade.”

Jared looks out the window and thinks about that movie, how there were flashy fight scenes and amazing monster-like beings that had to have been created by the most imaginative minds, but also such a careful construction of disillusioned characters fighting to find their place in the world. He had thought about that movie so many times as a child, but still fought with the idea that it was a pipedream. Media wasn’t good. No one needed it. It was the law. 

Chad piped up, poking a finger at the back of Jared’s head. “He did. Some space war thing.”

Jared moved his head out of the way and shot an annoyed glare back at Chad. Jake looked interested. “What was it like?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbles in return. “I was like seven.”

“I thought your neighborhood went in ’86.”

He stares back out the window, like he doesn’t even want talk about it – he kind of doesn’t. It always feels strange to admit it to people who have never experienced film before. “It was my grandpa’s. His went in like ’88. Maybe ’89.”

“That late? Wow.” Jake leaned up closer, right next to Jared. “What was it like?”

Jared glances over his shoulder, a little steely and sharp. Before he can respond, Jake backs away and the van comes to a stop. “Let’s go, kids,” Jeff prompts as he shuts off the vehicle.

The four exit the vehicle and Jared eyes the house Jeff’s parked in front of. A little white ranch, lights popping up from the inside like fireworks. He hates this part.

As they march up the sidewalk, he spots a guy coming out to the front porch of the two-story bungalow in the next lot. He’s in lounge pants, a hooded sweatshirt with a tee hanging below, and glasses. He must’ve come out to watch and it puts Jared at an even more awkward moment. He’s not entirely proud of his job and what he has to do sometimes, but it’s the law, and it pays well. So he does it the best he can with as little feeling as possible.

Jeff, Chad, and Jake are already at the front door of the house they’ve been called to. Jared can’t stop looking at the guy on the porch shooting defiant glares, tipping his chin up like he’s not intimidated in the slightest. It’s new for Jared to see in the citizens – at least in the ones who are merely spectators. They usually are horrified and stay away.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. You’re going to have to let us in,” Jeff is saying as Jared joins the guys on the porch. The woman behind the screen is in near hysterics and crying on about how they don’t have anything, they’ve never seen anything. Jeff keeps pulling on the screen door handle, but it’s been locked and he can’t do anything more than use his department-issued knife to cut through the screen so he can reach in and unlock it. Jared’s stomach turns with the notion that they have to break into her house, as they have at so many other places before. It’s never any easier

He’s inside, eyeing the family pictures adorning the walls, one shade of brown morphs into another as they enter each room. It’s not tidy, but everything fits together. This house, this home, is well-lived and Jared can tell this family is inlove with each other by how many times the photos show them laughing and smiling and hugging. It makes him sicker to be doing this.

“Down here!” Jeff calls out, forcing Jared and Chad to look for the bedroom at the end of the hallway. 

Jared spots a kid, teenaged if he’s lucky, with sweaty hair that he keeps pushing out of his face and the obvious tag of guilt in his eyes. He wants to shake his head at the kid; no matter how hard this becomes, it’s the law and Jared abides by it in all manners, so he expects all others should, too. 

“Right here,” Jake says as he’s dumping video games onto the unmade bed and Jeff tugs a few more cases from beneath a misplaced floorboard. 

Chad reaches for a few of the boxes and nudges Jared, snapping his gum loudly and showing how little respect he has in this room. “I heard this one lets you run over trannies and hookers.”

Jeff looks over his shoulder and straightens. “Alright son,” he nods, as if that’s enough instruction. Jeff motions a hand towards the doorway and nods at Chad, who follows the kid out. 

Jared knows what’s next. The kid will be hauled out in handcuffs, put away until he’s at least eighteen. The mother will sob her way out the door as she begs them to reconsider or at the very least will try to convince them they weren’t his, a friend hid them there, right. He and Chad will search the house for any other media paraphernalia and seek out proofs of purchase to point them in the direction of whoever is still supplying media. Jeff and Jake will set the discards – items they find, be them discs, video games, music, or movies – on fire in the front yard to make a point (as they’ve been trained to do). Then they’ll head right back to the station and grab themselves the last few hours of sleep they’re been owed this week.

And it does. And they do – find stuff. There’s a game console, two controllers, and a multitude of other games found in the little girl’s room. Barbie- and Princess-themed adventures. Which, unfortunately, forces Jeff to take the girl and the parents with them as well (a child over the age of 11 owning items is found wholly responsible; one under 11 is brought in with his/her guardian). It breaks Jared’s heart even further. He can’t imagine the girl doing well in juvenile detention. 

After he’s tagged all the receipts and warranty information they’ve discovered, he and Chad cart the evidence bags to the van and join Jeff and Jake on the lawn to burn the game system and discs. That guy from next door is still watching them, now looking sad and dejected as he leans against a brick column at the corner of his porch.

Jared sighs and looks down to the fire, watching how the metal flames blue and the plastic melts down into the grass. He knows it’ll leave behind debris that can’t be fixed without digging up spots of the yard. They’d been taught it was part of the lesson. To ruin the front yard and show that criminals are always found, so others are on warning. When he’s tired of watching red and yellow burn itself into the ground, he looks up to the guy, who’s shaking his head and turning back into his house. Jared moves back to the van; he’s too tired to make meaning of this moment. They answered an alarm, found media to burn, and the family is in proper police detention. His job is done.

*

It’s another three hours before his shift ends and it doesn’t seem to come soon enough. Jared’s thankful to pull his truck into the driveway, grateful to spot Sandy’s sedan in front of the house, and all around just happy to be off work. When he trudges through the front door, he smells pancakes and oranges and even hears sizzling of bacon. 

He smiles gently when he’s close enough to see her petite frame working itself around the kitchen. A hand goes to her back and he leans down for a peck at her cheek. “Hey, there.”

She smirks and pats at his cheek in return. “You look like hell.”

“I feel like it.” He moves easily for coffee and downs it as quickly as possible.

“Maybe sleep is in order? Not caffeine?” she asks while pointing a spatula at his mug. 

He gives her a tiny smile. “I don’t know, but this stuff tastes amazing.”

“It’s the Columbian blend. From Chad and Sophia’s trip.” Sandy raises an eyebrow and he sighs. “I know,” she says on a chuckle as she turns back to the stove and flips a series of silver dollars.

Jared smirks at her while he settles at kitchen chair. Jared and Sandy were set to join Chad and Sophia on their South American trip, but Jeff wouldn’t let them both off at the same time, and Jared felt like she held it against him. “He said they didn’t do much beyond the hotel room and a coffee bar. That doesn’t sound like a whole lotta fun.”

“We could’ve had fun with that.” She’s still facing the stove, but he spots how her hips sway just so and he hears the play in her voice. 

He leans back and smiles to himself, knowing they would have. His eyes drop closed and he relaxes for just a few moments before she’s sliding a plate before him and rubbing a hand over his forehead then across the top of his head. 

“You really do look like hell.”

“A whole family,” he laments as he starts cutting up sausage links. “Even the little girl. Both kids had games.”

Sandy nudges the syrup towards him. Her voice goes soft and comforting. “Jared, it’s the law.”

He nods his agreement while pushing pieces of pancake into his mouth. 

“I mean, if that stuff was okay to have, then you wouldn’t have a job, right?”

He’s still nodding, bringing a glass of orange juice up to his mouth and eyeing her. She’s so right, he knows this, but it doesn’t make it any easier on him. It’s not like there were many options for careers when he was eighteen and trying so hard to bring money home after his father died in a work accident. He took the first thing offered to him, and he hasn’t left it yet. Nine years of emptying houses and disgracing families will never feel easy.

It hasn’t even been five minutes at the table and he hasn’t gotten through half his food, but he’s not hungry anymore. He rises, kisses her quickly, and makes an excuse for bed. She gives him a sad smile and watches him go without argument.

*

He sleeps through the day, but it’s not good sleep. It’s fitful and broken after every dream cycle as he imagines that family. The girl, who they later found out was barely eight, crying her way out the door and through the front yard, complaining that it was her fault that her parents bought the game. _Don’t blame them! It’s me! I made them do it! Don’t take them!_ she’d shrieked while Jared emptied the parents’ bedroom closets and drawers to find any proof of purchase. Those papers would go on to the Propers – the Proper Authorities, or real police – to follow up on who was making and selling media in town. There were days he wanted that job. To get out, ask questions, put pieces together in the mystery of where it was coming from. Anything to keep him away from sobbing families who were torn apart by his very presence. But it took a lot more than just nine years to get there. A good track record and the right connections was just the start of it.

Just after six, Sandy creeps into bed, sliding up to his tall frame and resting her head against his chest. Neither say anything at first – he normally asks how work was, but he’s too distracted at the memory of the little blonde girl from the house this morning. For once, the thoughts of what occurred at the hospital aren’t enough to ignore what he’s thinking about. “You okay, baby?”

His hand sweeps down her head and through her long, dark hair. He tries his best to sound normal. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“When’s your next day off?”

“Three days.” Then he can focus on not being seen as one of the bad guys, the ones who send people to prison. 

“Maybe we can do something.” She rises from her spot to look down on him. “Go down to the beach or something? Get out of the neighborhood?”

Jared watches her, how her dark eyes scroll over his face as if inspecting for a tear in the armor. He nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Her smile is small, but he knows it’s real. She dips down and kisses him, gentle and easy at first, but soon enough it’s getting stronger and he rolls over with arms winding around hips. He finds a way to distract himself from worrying about work.

*

His next shift carries him for twenty-four hours, spending too much time with Chad and a deck of cards, getting ideas from Jeff about things to do at the beach with Sandy, and catnapping as best as he can manage. It’s a relatively quiet shift. He’s off for another twelve hours, but it’s that next shift that really gets to him.

The house they happen upon is a small shack-like thing, tucked far back on its lot where garages usually take residence. The owner, a fortyish woman, is halfway up the walk by the time they’re walking towards her. She looks nervous and shaken, but she stands with an air of confidence and defiance. “I know what you’re here for,” she says in a steady voice.

“Ma’am?” Jeff asks. “You gonna make this easy?”

“There’s nothing here.”

Jared looks beyond her and takes a few steps. She moves to block him, eyeing critically. “You really have fun with this?”

“Ma’am, we’re just doing our job. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he tries cordially, as they’d all been taught to do. 

She allows him past, but then follows alongside. “You don’t know what it’s like. To have all these pictures and stories flashing before you. They’re the best things I’ve ever seen.”

Jared keeps on moving, hopping up the few front steps and grabbing for the door handle. But her hand closes over his. Her hand is gentle, he’ll give her that. “Ma’am.”

“You don’t deserve to do this to us. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jeff comes up with Jake on his heels. He moves the woman away from the door and walks past Jared as Chad follows as well. Jared looks on her carefully. “You have media in there?”

Her chin rises but she stays quiet.

Jared tries to keep the smirk off his face. This isn’t fun, but he feels a little off today, dealing with this woman trying so hard to say she’s innocent. 

“You’re too young to even know. To even care. The beauty in people’s work. What they _still_ do. It breaks my heart to know you’re taking it away. You’re taking my life and my love away.”

The determination in her voice and in her eyes when she says it, the way her face crumbles with emotion and tears break free hits his stomach and he can’t move from his spot. Jared watches her for a few moments before he hears Jeff and Chad talking about books and movies and all sorts of paraphernalia. He flashes a look inside then back at her. “Excuse me,” he mumbles before making his way inside.

*

Jeff and Jake are burning her items on her front yard while he and Chad file away the receipts at the van. The woman is cuffed to the driver’s side door handle while they wait for the ‘proper authorities’ to pick her up. When Chad moves over to the fire, she nods at Jared and her voice breaks again. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

He scoffs back at her, mostly because he’s a little tired of her arguing back. “Lady, really.”

She keeps moving toward him and reaching out as she pleads with him to just understand that “it’s all good. And it’s beautiful and dreamy and you have no idea the places your mind can wander.”

He finally presses hands into her back so she’s forced against the van – with as little force as he can manage really, because he’s not trying to rough her up, just get her out of his space. “Ma’am. You really have to – “ But he pauses because he feels the distinct outline of something he sees all too often but hasn’t felt in years. “Do you have a – “

“Just take it. Take it and watch it.”

Jared reaches below the edge of her jacket and spots a cellophane-wrapped disc tucked into her belt. He’s dumbfounded. For all the times he’s seen them and been told how horrible media is for the world today, he’s never held a piece of it in his hands for more than two seconds – just long enough to toss it to the ground and wait for it to catch fire. His thumb and forefinger squeeze against the plastic of the packaging and he’s sort of amazed to have the object in his grasp. 

“Pads, when’re the Propers coming?”

He snaps to attention, tucking the disc into the front of his blues and makes his way back to Jeff. “They said ten to twenty about thirty ago.”

“Man, these guys really gotta get their act together,” Chad grumbles as he drops another book into the flames. 

Jared shakes his head at the amount of discards they have to take care of. There are _piles_ of it. He glances back to the woman, who’s now just eying him with interest for even taking the disc with him. They’d uncovered an entire library worth of items – from different prints of The Bible to crime novels to foreign, subtitled films, to compact discs containing some of the most-renowned classical singers and musicians – at least ones that he’s been told were renowned; he hasn’t lived through any of this stuff. He’s kind of amazed at the breadth of media she was housing and he wonders if the fire and energy in her eyes is reflected off her lawn or if it’s a carryover of the life she’s lived, breathed, seen, and heard through her collection.

*

When Jared returns home in the midnight hours, he strips down, finding the disc in the band of his boxers and hiding it away below all the underwear of his top drawer. Sandy is already sleeping; he knows she has an early shift at the hospital, taking some extra hours while nurses move their way throughout the local hospital system. He slides into bed, spooning her and smiling as she sleepily pushes back on his body and accepts his arms around her. 

He thinks of the woman he’d encountered, the one likely imprisoned for life based on the amount of discards they torched on her front lawn. How miserable she had looked as she watched the flames engulf her possessions. It’s so fluid in his mind that he can’t sleep.

In the morning, he feels Sandy rise and hears her ready herself for work. He isn’t due in for another few hours for a short eight-hour shift before having a full twenty-four off – his first in weeks. It’s not even minutes from Sandy’s absence when he gets out of bed and rushes his way into the front room, starting up the computer and putting the disc in. He’s curious as all hell; it’s been years - _years_ since he’s last seen anything play from a disc. 

When the thing fires up, he’s awed by opening credits with mournful music playing behind script text introducing all the players and behind-the-scenes people involved in creating the piece. Soon enough, the show opens with a sunrise that’s brighter than anything he’s experienced and he’s captivated. The scenes unfold before him with drama of brothers doing their best to be family while trying to manage their family business, which he doesn’t even understand, but he sees loads of underlying tension between the men. When the two face off at a particularly understated moment – one that was likely touching for those who regularly watched the show, but to him seems a little useless and empty – he realizes he knows one of the men on his screen. It’s the guy on the porch from two shifts ago. The one in the lounge pants and glasses who’d show such degradation through the moment that it stayed with him way too long.

He shuts the thing off immediately, feeling a little too off to really complete the program. Knowing on one hand it’s wrong for him to even have this item in his possession, but also feeling like he’s intruding into someone else’s life for watching everything happen before his very eyes. He’s touched by the interaction between the men, and how affected they are by each other. But it’s wrong, it’s so wrong, he knows this. This was one of the reasons his mother told him – so many years after he cared about media, after he took this job, but not all too long ago – for why it was all outlawed. People felt too much and became way too invested in what was put before them on the screen. It brought them too far from reality and they no longer took their paths. 

_Jared, honey, people didn’t live their own lives anymore. They sought what was on the TV and it wasn’t true. People_ made _it up! None of it was true!_ she’d lamented to him. At the time he thought he understood. It was ridiculous, for people to fall into a life they saw before them and not the one they were actually living. 

But now, he feels it. He feels the pain between the brothers, and how they strive for something better. How they’re empty of what they could – should – get every day from family around them. And it makes his stomach drop and his heart stop and his brain malfunction. Because it doesn’t make sense to him – why are they so sad? Why can’t they just talk it out? Like so many people did these days without daydreams of screen dramas and fake lives before them? This world, the one planted on the computer screen, just doesn’t seem real.

He stares at the empty, blue screen for all too long. He’s not even sure what it is that forces him to do it, but he starts the show back up and takes the rest in. How these men fight each other and how they strive to matter in each other’s lives. Begging for forgiveness for some wrong one of them committed previous to this installment. How they finally seek absolution by the end of the forty minutes, but still fear what comes next as they have to face the world together, knowing what’s out there. 

It scares Jared – to a point. He wonders what could happen next, what _does_ happen next, and he’s startled by how much he cares. The disc doesn’t contain anything more, and in a moment he’s upset and mad and ready to hit something for not knowing the next chapter. But he stops because then his cell phone is ringing and he’s running to another room to catch it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey,” Sandy sounds out evenly.

He does his best to steel his voice from all the emotions that’s crushed his brain in the last hour. “Hi. What’s up?”

“I am so sorry, you have no idea,” she starts before rushing on. “But Brenda called in and I’m stuck here for way too long. They’re giving me a spot to sleep for a few hours, but I’m going to take her shift.”

“Really?” he asks a little distracted, tempting his fingers to start the show up again to see what he feels upon the second viewing. He quickly closes the program knowing he shouldn’t. But it’s begging him to be watched again. He can almost hear it asking for it.

“Yeah. I know it’s awful. But the overtime will be good. And I know you’re on tonight. I’ll be home again later tomorrow. Okay?”

Jared sighs, more at himself for the predicament he’s currently in than for her own problem. “Yeah, no, I get it. It’s fine.”

“Really?” she asks, skeptical. “I’m so sorry.”

He tries to ease her down. “Baby, don’t worry. I should go in soon, so you’d be home alone anyway.”

“Alright,” she sighs, and she sounds tired. “This is good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiles a little. “It’s money. You’re doing great, honey.”

“Yeah,” she sighs again.

“I’m proud of you.” He really is. She is so committed to helping people at the hospital, running between patients, giving her best, sweet smile, and making their lives a little less painful. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, baby.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Whenever you’re home. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath, but sounds okay when she continues on, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“Of course,” Jared answers automatically.

“Jare, seriously. Be good. You’ve been so worn down lately.”

“Yeah. I know. I’ll be okay.”

She signs off with another _love you_ and he dumps the cell phone on the computer desk before starting the program up again.

*

His mother welcomes him in the second she spots him at the doorway. She’s smiling and offering a big hug and kiss on the cheek while she sweetens him up. “Jared, honey, so glad to see you!”

He chuckles as he hugs her back, kisses her cheek, then follows her into the house. Her love and attention is a little overwhelming. “You needin’ something?”

“Just to see my boy,” she smiles, grabbing onto his hand as they walk into the living room. 

They settle into the furniture, new since he’s last been here, which, if he’s being honest, is a little too long. He comments on it and she’s beaming with pride. “Figured it was time to spruce up the place, ya know?” He smirks his _yeah, I know_ and she’s up seconds later. “You probably want something to drink! Soda? Water? Beer?” Then she frowns. “Wait, you work tonight, right?”

“Settle down,” he smirks back. “Water’s fine.”

She’s back in less than a minute and smiling at him from across the way in an armchair. Jared sips from the glass in silence, looking around his childhood living room and amazed how it feels out of place from his memories yet like it’s been frozen in time with all the same family photos and framed art on the walls. He always said he had a good childhood, but now he wonders if it could’ve been great if he had experienced different things as a kid. “How’re you doing? How’s Sandy?”

He nods. “She’s doing well. Stuck at the hospital today, but good.”

“That’s good. The cornerfolk talk about how the hospitals are dying down in the area. I worry about her.”

Jared gives a comforting smile because he knows how much his mother adores Sandy. Possibly even more than he does, which is really saying something. “No, they’re pretty busy from what she says. I’m not even sure they have enough nurses with how much overtime she’s grabbing lately.”

His mother’s mouth twists like she dreads saying what’s in her mind. “I heard at the corner that the hospitals are getting less of the real injuries and more of the Discers.”

He groans. “Mama, you gotta stop talking at the corner.” He knows that’s where gossip goes to be planted, fertilized, and spread. It’s like a live version of newspapers but worse as the people and their stories are mostly unreliable. But he also he knows it’s the only way people get any local news these days. Most of the papers have gone national.

She goes on like he hadn’t said a word. “They say the Discers are put on the third floor, and no one documents it. I can’t imagine having to work on that floor.” She all but physically shivers at the thought, and he kind of wants to, too. Knowing how little respect and care is given to those who break the Media Freeze, and to be slated for the mental ward can’t help much either. Her eyes go wide, “Sandy doesn’t do the third floor, does she?”

“No, she’s fine. She’s still doing ICU.”

“Oh, good,” and she’s visibly relaxing at that thought. 

Which makes Jared frown because on a near-weekly basis, Sandy’s talking about another patient they’ve lost who couldn’t overcome how serious their ailments were. He doesn’t exactly sees that as being good. “Yeah,” he murmurs at the edge of his glass and takes a bigger sip of water.

“I’m surprised you’re not sleeping today.”

He looks up and gives a cautious smile. “It’s been a strange week.”

“How _is_ work going? I heard you got six more houses this week.” 

In holding the glass, his hands remain steady, which is a great help and allows him to hide the nerves from his mother. He stares down into it, catching how blurred his feet look through the water. “The day shift got some. We had just two, but one was a family.”

“Jared, you’re doing a wonderful job. Your father would be so proud.”

He looks up with cautious eyes and a just as cautious voice. “Really?” She nods back with a smile. He’s been feeling so cynical these last few days, especially after taking that family, and even more so when he considers the woman who gave him the disc. He’s pretty sure his dad wouldn’t see anything good from putting a family with two young children in prison. 

His mother leans back in her chair and smiles. “Your daddy would love hearing all about you marchin’ across town. Upholdin’ the law.”

He’s leaning forward, elbows to knees and hands wringing around the glass. More than anything, he’s afraid of her response to the questions he really wants to ask her. The curiosity inside him is battling with that fear and it eventually wins. “Mama, you remember when the Freeze went in?”

The only thing he sees move are her eyes as they take in his face and finally go down to her knees, which are crossed over each other, like a perfect lady. “Yes,” she replies low.

His head tips to the side with interest. “What was it like?”

A hand smoothes down the fabric of her dress, pushing it flat across her thigh and down her knee. “You remember.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t.”

She looks so uncomfortable, which kind of puts him at ease. To know that it’s just as difficult for her to answer as it is for him to even ask makes the situation more bearable. He’s not embarrassed for asking because she’s apparently embarrassed to even answer him. “They just decided. We didn’t need it anymore.”

Jared scoots to the edge of the couch, gripping the glass tighter in his hands. He’s almost smiling, because his mother has never said much more than _It’s the law_ before. “Nothing at all?”

“No.”

“But, I mean,” and he can hear how his voice is getting more involved, the level of enthusiasm growing. He puts the glass on the table in front of him and keeps eyes solid with his mother. “Why did they think we didn’t need it anymore?”

Her voice is nearly condescending, like he should know better. “Jared, honey, you know. You see what it does to those people.” The way he tips his head and looks confused prompts her to go on. “How those people react when you’re in their homes? They’re criminals and they rationalize that it’s okay to have these things because it makes them happy or sad or go crazy?”

“What if it does?” he asks before he can realize the words have formed. Suddenly, he’s a little uncomfortable.

“Those emotions aren’t natural.”

He takes a deep breath and feels the smile growing on his face, because she’s actually talking about this. “Being happy isn’t?”

“Honey, we’re happy and we don’t have that stuff.”

Jared watches her, thinking it over and he knows for a fact that he isn’t happy. He can’t speak for her, or Sandy, or the guys he works with. But none of them are exactly what he thinks of as being happy about their lives. It appears as though they just move forward, from one event to the next with as little disruption as possible. It doesn’t seem like a good way to live. And all these thoughts startle Jared because he’s never spent this much time analyzing the lives around him. But it’s only been thirty seconds to consider this and he seems to suddenly have a pretty heavy opinion on the matter.

“Jared?”

His fingers twist into each other as he fights his next words. “A lady offered me a disc. Told me to watch and see what media really does to people.”

“Oh, Jared,” she worries instantly. “Please tell me … you didn’t. You don’t have it, right? Oh, you could be in so much trouble.” There’s a pause and her face drops, eyes cold. “You didn’t bring it here? Oh, no,” and her hands go to her face, nearly covering her eyes. 

She continues going on and on with her fears of Jared actually possessing such a thing, which he absolutely does, but he shushes her with the easiest voice and look he can. He’s thoroughly lying right to her face, and he’s amazed with how easy it is. “No, I didn’t take anything. It’s okay.”

Her hand presses into her chest and she’s smiling with sad eyes. “Oh, sweet Heavens. Thank you.”

His hands open, showing flat in front of him. He feels that same openness ass he admits why he’s so interested in the topic. “She just seemed _so emotional_ about it. Like media really made her happy and gave her power to think about things other than her own life.”

“Which is exactly why we can’t have it, Jared,” his mother starts in immediately. Her voice is stern and nearly reprimanding. “We need to live our own lives. We can’t be watching other people do it for us.”

“Yeah, but,” he breaks in carefully. “They’re not _doing it_ for us. We’re just watching how someone else imagines it.”

“Imagination,” she scoffs and then seems to smile. Like she’s amused by Jared’s opinions.


	3. Part Two

Jared’s back at work, minding his own thoughts and wondering how in the world things could be so different in his life if he’d seen that TV show as a child. If he were opened to the emotions and characters and storylines of those brothers and what they saw in each other. Being an only child has left Jared without much to bounce off of except for his grandfather, when he was still around. The only person who gave in to fun and playful things, sharing all his stories about what he’d seen in media and making Jared jealous that he’d had those experiences. The lady pops back into his mind and how insistent she was that her life was enriched by all those discards, and what a travesty it was to burn them. How people were still being touched by such things. 

Without much thought, he excuses himself from the room on needing fresh air and he’s in the hallway and down stairs before anyone can protest. He makes his way into the Propers Area and manages to get to the cellblock. He finds the lady, Sharon Parker, and tugs a chair in front of her cell. 

She looks up at the noise of his seat and takes a long, hard look at him. Her critical eyes soften in seconds and she’s smiling softly. “You did it.”

He stares back and tries to keep himself level, tries to act like this is official business. “Where’d you get the discs from?”

Ms. Parker is up to the bars, gently holding them in her frail hands. She looks tired and worn down, which he knows is the interrogation the Propers gave her on exactly what he’s asking of her. “You watched the disc, didn’t you?” Her mouth spreads wider and she’s impressed. “I told you. Told you it’d blow your mind.”

Jared clears his throat as he glances around the space, making sure no one else is around. “Ms. Parker. I asked you a question,” he says in his best work voice. “Where did you get the discs?”

She sits at the edge of her cot and sighs with a smile. “You want to watch more, don’t you? You see what it does? It’s like sending your brain on a trip to any wonder of the world. The things you experience …”

He tries a harder tone. “Ms. Parker.”

Her back goes straight and the face is a little cold now. “I didn’t tell them. Won’t tell you.”

His feet tap with nervous energy. He wants to know, wants to see more of it and see what’s really there in media, what else is possible. But he can’t manage a good argument on it when he’s on the clock and in Proper. His hands swipe down his legs, tapping once at his knees as he stands. “Alright.”

“That show?” she starts as he’s walking away. “I heard one of the guys lives in my neighborhood.”

When he looks back on her, she’s smiling again with a raised eyebrow. And he remembers; the one brother was neighbor to the family they took away a few days ago. The guy who stared him down and eventually left with a dejected shake of his head the day they picked them up. Jared’s mouth curls up just enough to show his appreciation for the answer, but a second later it’s fine and thin. He nods. “Good evening.”

Ms. Parker smirks back. “You, too, Agent.”

When he’s back upstairs, Jeff is asking him where he’d run off to and if he’s feeling okay. Jared does his best to shake it off and say it was cabin fever. But all three of his co-workers are eyeing him oddly.

“Pads? C’mon over here,” Jeff prompts as he moves to the other side of the space and settles behind his desk. 

Jared watches his boss with a careful glance before he follows and sits before him. “What’s going on?”

A thick eyebrow goes high on Jeff’s forehead as he watches Jared. “Was gonna ask you the same thing. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replies immediately, like everything really is.

“You been a little weird lately.”

He’s shaking his head and trying to be normal. “No, I’m fine.” The way Jeff’s eyebrow won’t go down and how his eyes are unrelenting on Jared’s are making him nervous. They’ve been trained to spot liars and the guilty; getting through this conversation is difficult. Jared finally relents with a sigh. “Sandy’s been working crazy hours. Hardly seen her this week.”

Jeff visibly relaxes the moment he’s said her name. The man chuckles, low and throaty. “I know how that goes. Haven’t seen Mary for a few myself.” Then he winks as he encourages Jared, “You have twenty-four off in a bit. I’m sure you’ll put it to good use.”

The phone call with Sandy, and how she’ll be gone for some of that time flashes in his mind, but he nods with a smile anyway. No reason to give away the idea that there’s _something else_ bothering him. “Yeah, we will,” he smirks back. 

When Jared rises from the chair, Jeff’s still watching him and the smile he’d had moments before starts to slide down; he’s done faking the conversation, too. Jared’s mouth flips quickly for a closed smile before he leaves his boss alone, hoping it’s enough to keep him off his back, off the idea that there’s something else here, and definitely off the fact that he’d gone down to Proper to talk to Ms. Parker. 

*

The minute he gets to his bedroom, he crashes for a well-deserved bout of sleep. The shifts have never been easy on him; he’s never learned how to best capture rest to get through them. So when he’s afforded a twenty-four off, he usually spends a fair share of it sleeping on and off. 

Sandy’s home hours after he falls asleep. When she collapses into bed with a tiny thud, he chuckles through his light sleep and pulls her in tight. “You okay?” he mumbles at the top of her head.

“Exhausted.”

“Mmhmm.”

They lie in silence for a bit and he’s convinced she’s fallen under, but she suddenly rises up to an elbow and is looking down on him. His eyes crack open and he feels a bit refreshed, as if he’s napped his way out of tire. She’s watching him critically and finally says softly, “Your mama called me.”

“Oh, no,” he sighs as he sits up, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“She said you were asking silly things. About the Freeze?”

Sandy’s voice is gentle and thoughtful but he doesn’t want to deal with the inquisition. He pushes the covers away and yanks jogging pants and a t-shirt on before stalking around the room to grab shoes and socks. “I just went to visit and asked a few questions,” he grumbles through it all.

Her voice builds some control, but after being with her for four years, he can sense the nerves beneath it. “She said you had a disc.”

He freezes at the dresser, hands still on the handles to the underwear drawer. He’s staring down on a mix of colored boxers and white socks that Sandy has carefully tucked into married pairs. It’s like he can see the disc, lying just below all that fabric, and it’s staring back at him, begging to be watched again. Begging to be shared. 

“Jared?”

In the mirror, he can see her worry. He knows it’s more for him than the thought of having something in the house. But still, he’s a little edgy with her look and can’t manage to lie right here. “I told her someone offered me one.”

The way her eyes widen then close back down and her head dips down tells him that she’s even more scared at the implications of his words. “Jared,” she whispers. 

He can’t stand to turn around. Watching her through the mirror gives him distance from the complication he’s brought into their lives, into their bedroom.

She looks back up. “Did you take it?”

His non-reply serves as the answer and she’s tearing up just waiting for him to deny it. But he can’t do it here. Not to her. “Sandy – ”

“Jared,” she says again, her voice stronger. “How could you?”

“It was …” He’s prepared to stay stupid – that it was _so_ stupid of him to take it. But instead, his mind is flooded with the images he’d seen on the screen. How the camera had broadcasted so many lights and darks that fit the moods of each scene. The way it captured the events unraveling before him and the way it framed each of the characters. How much he connected to the emotions in between the men on screen and the battles they fought with words and fervor. The longer it’s been since he first saw it, the stronger he feels about it. He moves back to the bed and kneels before her. “Sandy, it was amazing,” he revels in voice and the intensity of his eyes. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s nearly smiling; he feels the stretch of his cheeks. 

Sandy’s shaking her head, moving her hands away from her body. “No, no, you didn’t. You didn’t watch that.”

His excitement rises, even while his voice goes lower. Like he can’t chance anyone else knowing how he feels about it but he’s _dying_ for her to know it’s affected him. He presses palms to his chest as if he’s afraid the emotions are going to break free and he won’t be able to know them anymore. “Oh my God, you have no idea what it was like. These people, they were so … so … _passionate_. The way they talked to each other, argued together. It was … Sandy, you wouldn’t believe it.” He keeps starting and stopping his words, not even sure what he wants to tell her about, because it’s all flooding him again and he’s overwhelmed with it all. Moisture builds in his eyes as he replays it all in his head. “The way they looked on screen, and how they moved around each other. The way the camera framed everything? My gosh, Sandy, you wouldn’t believe how beautiful it all was. You’d love it. The _experience_ ...”

She’s still shaking her head and breathing deep. “No, no, Jared. No. You can’t do this. You have to burn it.”

“No,” he shakes back. “No, you have to see it.”

“Absolutely not,” Sandy whispers back. “You burn it.”

“I can’t.”

“Jared, it’s your _job_.” 

The thrill of recounting the show dwindles away at her words. Of all reasons for him to trash the item, his job is number one. He breathes deep and watches her, how her eyes are full of disappointment and worry; she’s afraid she’ll be tied to it all the same. 

A tiny hand reaches for his cheek, strokes gently. “You have to.”

Jared lies with the nod of his head and the tiny smile that tells her she’s right, that he’ll get rid of it. He goes back to the drawer, grabs the disc, and shows it to her with a nod before he tucks it into the waistband of his pants. He takes a deep breath but still tries to smile, like giving in to this is the best idea and he isn’t hiding what he really feels in this moment. “I’ll take it somewhere else. I don’t want the neighbors to see me doing it.”

She nods numbly and stays silent on the bed. 

He moves closer and dips down, pausing when she won’t look up at him. He kisses the top of her head. His voice gets stronger, a little more confident, when he realizes these words are truth, “I’ll be back later. When I’m done taking care of this.” 

When he leaves the house, he sets course for Ms. Parker’s neighborhood. He doesn’t have a doubt in his mind to do it and feels more certain in this moment than he has in the last forty-eight hours. Though when he is in front of the house, having rung the bell and waiting for an answer, he starts to question what his intentions are right here. 

The door swings open and there he is, the man from the TV show. He looks less glossy and not as put together, but there’s matter to this body and a shape to every feature, like this is the human form of a robot. And Jared can’t stop staring at how strange it is to have the man from his computer screen in front of him. 

“Yeah?” the guy asks, gruff and wary. It’s two seconds later that his face goes hard and accusatory because he now recognizes Jared. “You here to burn more?”

Jared’s hand goes to his belly, the tips of his fingers feeling the disc at his waistband. The memories of what he saw push his courage back up. “I have a few questions for you. About your job.”

The guy’s shaking his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The door shuts hard and loud. 

His head tips back as he stares at the cover of the porch and takes a deep, steadying breath. Then he’s pushing the doorbell again and trying to not be startled by the quick opening or the anger in this man’s eyes. Jared rattles on quickly, “Sharon Parker from over on 25th Street gave me a disc. I watched it and you were on it.”

The eyes go wide in a flash and then they shut back down. His voice is mechanical but not as angry as before. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must be mistaken.” 

As the door starts to close again, Jared pushes his hands against the screen door and taps for attention. “I’m not … I’m not on duty. I’m here to ask about it.”

“Whatever, guy. I don’t know anything.”

It’s inches from being closed and locking Jared out again, so he speaks fast and a bit excitedly, “I watched it. I _liked it_.”

The door stops, making Jared’s heart soar for getting through to the guy. It pulls back a few inches and he eyes Jared. “What did you watch?”

“It was … I don’t know. I don’t know the name. There were brothers and you were one. You two fought something awful,” Jared smiles a little. And it grows when he sees the guy’s face loosen up. He‘s not looking happy or impressed, but he’s not mad anymore, so that’s an improvement. Jared’s voice goes easy and he can feel wonder lace his words. “You were really good.”

His mouth quirks a millimeter and Jared thinks he can see a smile behind that movement, so Jared’s smiling, too. They continue staring for a few moments, the longest moments of Jared’s life, he’s sure, until finally the guy moves back and brings the door with him. He leans forward to unlock the screen and pushes it open a few inches so Jared can come in.

Upon first glance, there’s nothing in the home that tells Jared this guy is doing anything illegal. That he’s appearing in media or helping create it or that he even owns it. The walls are full of photos and art, but there’s nothing that stands out. And Jared’s used to looking for these things. It’s almost too clean, he tells himself. 

“You want something? Beer or something else?”

Jared nods at the even tone of the voice, appreciating how it’s leveled itself off considerably. “Yeah, beer would be good.” He’s left alone in the living room, taking in the furniture that’s fairly beat up and faded, from the couch to the arm chair and down to the side tables with scratches and rips in fabric. Jared nods his thanks for the bottle and watches the guy sit back in the arm chair. It squeaks an ungodly noise and Jared snorts into the top of his drink. 

“What?”

He shakes his head and takes a drink, but finally admits, “I thought you’d have something nicer in here.”

The look Jared receives is cautious, as is the voice. “Why’s that?”

With a shrug, he settles at the arm of the couch on the other side of the room. “Thought you’d be rich or something. I’m sure people pay good money for media.”

His mouth presses tight as he looks down to his own bottle, takes a long swig, and finally looks at Jared seriously. “I don’t think everyone does it for the money.”

Jared smiles at the guy’s admission. He feels the same amount of joy he had when the show hit every chord inside his brain and made him experience feelings he hadn’t known since his grandfather told him about the TV shows and movies they had back when he was a kid. 

“What did you need?”

He swallows carefully, gathering his thoughts and the will to ask his question. It’s buried deep within his stomach but he’s dying to let it out. “Where can I get more?”

The beer bottle freezes in mid air while he watches Jared. “You want more?”

Nodding, “I really did like it.”

“Hmm,” he sounds while taking a drink. 

“I’d never … never seen anything like it.” Jared can see how the lips curl up before they open for the bottle again, like he’s trying to hide his smile. He reaches beneath his shirt and pulls the disc out, places it gingerly on the table before him. “I’ve watched it like three, four times? I don’t know. But it was unbelievable.”

The guy just nods back and takes another drink. Not giving up anything more, and Jared can understand that. He knows he’s asking a lot to even have this conversation, let alone with someone who does what Jared does. 

He tries his best to break that wall in closing some space and reaching forward with an open palm. “Jared Padalecki.”

“Media Agent,” he finishes for him.

“Well, yeah.” He glances at the open palm that the guy still hasn’t taken. “I’m not here for that.” He adds on miserably, “I hate my job.”

“I think most people feel that way.”

Jared pulls his hand back and sighs as he moves back to the other side of the room. He plays with the label on his bottle, tucking a fingernail under the edge and seeing it break away from the surface, like he wants to break away from his current life. “I don’t like tearing families up. I don’t like seeing the kids cry because they play video games.” 

“Then why you do it?”

He looks up and keeps steady eyes on the guy as he thinks long and hard about it. At 18, he took the job to help his family; he stayed to uphold law; now he does it so he won’t go poor and be forced to find a new career. But it doesn’t seem to be a good excuse at the moment. “I don’t really know anymore.”

The guy nods and sits forward, placing his empty bottle on the table between them. He rubs his hands together and watches the movement, as if he’s waiting for an answer to appear between his fingers. On a sigh, he says low, “Jensen Ackles.”

“What?” Jared asks as he leans forward, wondering what kind of strange wisdom the guy is sharing.

“Jensen,” and he seems to fuss a little before going on. “Name’s Jensen Ackles.”

His eyebrows crease as he watches the nervous energy across the way. He smirks a little. “What kinda name’s that?”

“What the hell is Padalecki?” Jensen shoots back. 

Jared’s smirk grows, glad to see some emotion in the room. He’s realized through the show and this moment here how little emotion is really shared anymore. It’s all simple questions and careful answers – like how guarded Sandy was in their bedroom when he talked about the disc. “It’s Polish, man.”

"English."

He smirks again. "You don't have an accent."

One of Jensen’s eyebrows flicks up and he bites down a smile. "There might be a little German, too.”

“Your people totally slayed my people,” Jared smiles around his beer bottle before taking a sip. “But I’ll let it slide for now.”

“Big war buff?”

He shrugs and brings the bottle down to his lap, feeling casual all of a sudden. It’s been a while since he’s had a conversation with someone that didn’t dictate what kinds of media he found and burned, or what a family said or did to keep him from doing his job. It’s refreshing. “History in general, maybe? I like to read the textbooks. Imagine what it was like back then.”

“Imagine?” Jensen asks with a slight air of interest to his voice. 

“Yeah.”

His eyes go to the disc still on the coffee table then back to Jared’s face. “When’s the last time you saw one of those?”

“Before this morning?” Jensen nods in reply and Jared thinks, takes a deep breath. “I think I was seven? Eight?”

“What was it?”

He remembers sitting in his grandfather’s lap, experiencing the space fights and how so many special effects built the scene and made it a reality in his young mind. He shakes his head with a small smile. “Don’t remember the name. My grandpa showed it to me.”

Jensen sits forward, elbows on his knees and his fingers intertwined. He has a tiny, knowing smile on his lips and Jared’s relaxing more and more in this room. “What was it about?”

He shakes his head again and takes another deep breath. “I think there was a young guy whose family was all gone, so he followed some old guy to help save a planet? Something in space?” Jared shrugs and looks back down to his bottle. “I don’t know. It was a while ago.”

“Go on,” Jensen nods with bright eyes. 

Their eyes meet and Jared’s reminded of how fascinating this man had been on his computer screen. How alive and passionate his face had become at just the right moments. This isn’t the same, but the excitement in his eyes is enough to trigger the feelings he experienced this morning, which then prompt the way he felt all those years ago in his grandfather’s living room. “They were rescuing a girl. A princess? And some guy with a monkey? They were helping.” He’s smiling now with the memory, but he’s still shaking his head and feeling foolish. “I don’t know, it sounds crazy here. But it was really interesting.”

Jensen’s smiling and eventually chuckling, looking down on his hands. When his head comes back up, he pins Jared with an amused glance – one he’d seen on the show, but it feels different here, it’s warm and energizing; it spikes Jared’s own energy for a moment. “It wasn’t a monkey. It’s called a Wookiee. The character is Chewbacca.”

“Huh?” 

“I saw that movie. It really is good.”

Jared squints, happy that he’s not imagining things. There’s no earthly way to explain that movie and not have people stare at him like he’s lost half his brain, but Jensen knows it and he says it’s good, so he can’t be dreaming this one up. He’s about to say more when his cell phone beeps with a message from Sandy. 

_You take care of it?_

He looks at the disc between them, laid out on the table for anyone to see if they came upon the room. But it feels like it’s safe here between him and Jensen. He smiles carefully at the guy and replies to Sandy. _Yeah. It’s out of my hands_

_I’m glad. You coming soon?_

Jared sighs and chances a glance at Jensen. “I should probably head out.” The guy’s face draws in and his hands move nervously over his knees before he rises with Jared. “Hey,” Jared says easily, leveling a hand between them. “Don’t worry. I say anything and they’ll wonder why I had it with me.”

Jensen’s eyeing him skeptically. “Really? Because I just assume you’d tell them it was mine all along.”

His voice goes tight, like it does when he’s on the clock. “They do fingerprints? I’m on it and so’s your neighbor.”

The guy breathes deep and just nods. 

When Jared’s at the door, he turns slowly and watches Jensen reach the foyer. He hasn’t felt this nervous since he first played the disc. It’s almost an exciting kind of nervous, exhilarating when he considers the opportunities here. “You think, maybe, I could come back? Ask you more?”

“Ask about what?”

“Your job? What you do?”

Jensen’s back to guarded, the way he was when Jared first came to the house. He shakes his head and reaches for the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jared won’t move away and he’s got this flash in him of when he was young and petulant and didn’t think about rules or laws running his life and career. “If I was going to do anything, I’d have enough information already. I saw your show.” Jensen’s not replying, not even moving. Jared continues on, “And really? How do I explain that one? I watched a disc. I had one in my house and I watched it and I saw you in there. So I came here to ask more. I’m in as much trouble for having it.”

The flicker of a smile on Jensen’s face gives him away. He’s considering it, that’s for sure. “How much money you got on you?”

He squints back, confused. “I don’t know. Eighty, maybe a hundred?” Jensen’s palm opens between them. “What for?” he asks skeptically, but he’s still reaching for his wallet and ready to hand the money over.

Jensen looks down on the wallet and mumbles, “At the very least, I’ll have something to contribute to my bond.”

Jared chuckles, a light and playful sound that makes Jensen smile a little. He puts the money in the guy’s hand and then catches him with a slight smile. “You know, you’re an interesting guy. I don’t think I’ve smiled this much in a long while.”

They watch each other for a few moments and Jensen breaks sadly. “That’s a pretty sorry life.”

He nods too easily because now that the words have been said, he knows they’re true. The wallet goes back to his pocket and he sighs. “I gotta pay you every time I show up?”

“How many times you showin’ up?”

“As many as you let me.”

Jensen shakes his head, pulling the door fully wide and motioning Jared out. 

Jared steps onto the porch with a frown but accepts that he had this moment and that’s good enough. He can live with it. 

Halfway down the stairs, he’s stopped by Jensen’s voice. “Bring some beer next time.”

His heart picks up and he feels lightheaded for a quick two seconds. The smile he shoots to Jensen is wide and makes his dimples pop, he’s sure of it. “Yeah?” The guy nods back. “Lite?”

Jensen’s arm rests against the screen door and he quirks an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t mind the good stuff. As long as we’re committing felonies.”

Jared laughs, a quick burst of happiness that he hasn’t felt in a while. He likes this feeling. 

*

Sandy eyes him for the first few minutes he’s back at the house, like she doesn’t know what to expect from him. Like he’s going to tear open and reveal a whole other creature beneath his skin. He almost feels that way, but it’s a good, fresh being who’s slowly waking up. 

They never make it to the beach. She looks wary of him and he feels like he has to reinforce that it’s still him, the Jared she fell in love with years ago and is living with. He tries his best to prove it to her by spending the day in bed, cuddling, making love, sleeping, holding her tight. She gives in to it all, but he’s not any more sure about what’s going on in his head. His visit with Jensen Ackles replays over and over and over, and he’s captivated with it all over again. 

She leaves in the early morning while he fakes his way through sleep. He lies there for who knows how long, replaying the TV show and cursing himself for leaving the disc at Jensen’s. He wants to run over there; he has an hour or two more until his shift starts, but he fears he’s pushing his luck with the guy and he doesn’t want to appear overeager. Even if he absolutely is. 

At work, he’s feeling easier about himself, and Jeff and Chad and Jake eye him oddly, but he just jokes that he had a day home alone with his girl, so they can imagine the possibilities. 

Jeff claps a hand on his shoulder. “Told you it’d be good when you were home.”

Jared smiles genuinely, but he’s thinking of the show and Jensen’s acting and the guy’s real voice. He’s lying his way through why he feels good this day, but at least he’s not faking the emotions. Which only crowd him when the alarm sounds, because he can’t imagine emptying another house of media now that he knows what it can do to a person’s state of mind. 

He’s back to stoic and melancholy when they’re searching a bi-level home that normally holds a father, mother, and four kids, but at the moment has only two children at home. He checks the family pictures and realizes it’s the two youngest who are gone, and it’s Disney games and cartoon videos that they unearth in one of the bedrooms. He smirks at the thought that the parents got them out of the house, but then he’s frowning because this means the two teenagers, a boy and a girl, will be taking the fall and going off until they’re adults so not everyone is safe from the blame.

As he walks the boy out, he asks carefully, “How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” the kid grumbles while fighting the handcuffs. “Can’t ya ease up on these?”

“I’m sorry,” he replies softly, because he suddenly is. “Best case scenario you’ll be out when you’re eighteen.”

A scoff is the reply.

They’re at the van and he latches another set of cuffs from the door handle to the kid’s locks. He looks to the yard where Jeff and Jake are soaking the discards with lighter fluid and striking matches. “What about your sister?”

“What about her? You stay the fuck away from her!” he shouts back. 

Jared turns quickly pushing at the kid’s shoulders, but not too rough. “Hey, you need to cool it,” he reasons easily. “You do anything stupid and you’ll be in more trouble. Got it?” He ducks down to the other set of eyes and looks between them quickly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His voice mostly levels, but he’s trying his best to be honestly interested. “How old is your sister?”

“Fourteen.”

He winces a little, thinking about her spending four years in juvenile detention. “You share that room with her?”

“What? No, it’s Sar –”

With a slight push to his shoulders again, he stares down the kid and gets in his face. Because it’s a little obvious who stays in that room and it’s not one of the teenagers. “Listen to me. You two could be inside until you’re eighteen. You share that room with her or is it just _yours_?”

The kid’s wide eyes go back and forth quickly, like he’s figuring out what’s going on. His breathing is rough when he finally says, “Nah, it’s just mine.”

“All those videos and games _yours_?”

“Why’re you doing this?” he asks, and his voice has gone dry and emotional.

Jared breathes deep, keeping the kid’s eyes with his. He knows why he’s doing this, but doesn’t know how to say so while on the clock. And while his mind can repeat that he doesn’t want to lock kids up for experiencing the things he’s come to look forward to himself, it’s hard to say aloud. His hand goes up to the side of the kid’s neck and squeezes lightly. “You tell ‘em you stole them just for fun or something. Don’t mention your sisters.”

“Wait, but – ”

“Don’t mention the ones who are gone either.”

“I’ll go to jail!”

“You’re going to jail anyway. You want company?”

He slowly shakes his head then nods gently in understanding while tears flood his eyes. “Okay, yeah. I’m sorry.” Jared nods in return and begins to move away as the kid goes on. “I’m sorry we had them. So sorry,” he’s whimpering quietly. 

Jared’s hand swipes over the top of the kid’s head and he joins his co-workers like nothing were different with this particular alarm. 

Jeff speaks up, voice steady and gentle. “What about the two little girls?”

“Kid says they’re his,” Jared replies evenly, staring into the yellow and orange flames flickering around the discs. It stings to see the media melting down, but he feels good for what he did by the van.

“C’mon. He’s at least fifteen,” Chad scoffs.

He just shrugs and gives a wry smile. “Says he stole ‘em. Just wanted to say he had them.” Jared looks to the street when the Proper van pulls up. “There we go.”

“Fucking kids,” Chad mutters as he steps back to the van. 

*

When his shift ends early the next morning, he stops in at home to give Sandy a hug and a kiss, munch on some toast, and crash in the bed for a quick nap. As soon as she’s gone, he’s up and showering, dressing, running his way out the door to the grocery store. He’s jumpy buying a twelve-pack of Corona and some other odds and ends. The woman at check-out eyes him strangely, but he’s going to take comfort in the fact that it’s at least ten minutes past the start of liquor sales and he’s sharing this. He’s not an alcoholic.

Twenty minutes later, he’s ringing Jensen’s door bell and nervously grasping at the handle in the cardboard container. The door creaks open and Jensen’s swiping a hand over his head and his eyes are barely open. “Yeah?”

Jared smiles carefully. “I, uh, I brought stuff?” He pulls the pack up for Jensen to see. 

“Corona?” he grumbles, mostly with fatigue and not so much annoyance. 

“You said good stuff. It’s better than Lite.”

Jensen’s hand runs down his face, fingers and thumb splitting down his nose as his palm presses into his mouth. “It’s fucking ten in the morning.” He sighs at Jared’s slight frown and finally opens the screen to allow his entrance. “You come before noon again, you’re bringing coffee.”

“Noted,” Jared smiles back. 

“Gimme ten to,” and he waves a hand from his face to his chest. Then his hand presses the sleep-crinkled tee into his stomach and he’s squinting against the sunlight streaming through the foyer. 

“Yeah, no problem.”

Jensen motions to the living room. “Just, don’t mess with anything. I’ll be right back.”

He wants to smile in accepting it, but it’s weird all over again to be in the guy’s house, this home, and not knowing what to really do with himself. When Jensen’s heading upstairs, he sits at the couch he’d used to lean on two days before and spots the disc, _his disc_ , on the coffee table. He picks it up and rolls it in his hands so the thin edges rub on the pads of his fingertips and he can revel in the feel of so much story and drama packed into this tiny piece of plastic. He sticks his finger in the middle hole and runs the disc in circles, feeling it twist his skin and he mentally replays the episode. Jensen’s emotions and the fierce determination in the other brother as they fought. How they stood side by side to battle the enemies and they refused to back down. How they smiled at each other, like their eyes were communicating so many sentiments and unsaid thoughts. 

The footsteps aren’t loud, but he hears them getting closer and he places the disc back on the table. Jensen’s smirking down on him, freshly showered and dressed. “You okay?”

Jared looks back at the disc and sees his palm flex open above the item, like it wants to touch it again. He steels himself and stands tall in the room, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Jensen moves further into the room and opens the case of beer then uses the ring on his right hand to pop the cap off the bottle. He hands it to Jared then does a second for himself. “No limes?” he smirks.

He shuffles back into the couch then fumbles with a smile as he reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and shows off two limes in his grip. He tosses one, then the other, across the room to Jensen, who easily catches them both. 

“My man,” he revels with a smile before jumping to the kitchen and returning with a knife and plate. They’re both smiling but not talking while he splits up the fruit and pushes some over to Jared’s side of the table. “You didn’t send the Propers,” he says easily.

“Told you I wouldn’t.”

“You trying to become one?”

Jared sighs as he catches Jensen’s suspicion. Before he watched that disc, he wanted nothing more – if only to get him off the crazy shifts and away from the images of literally pulling families apart, but also because he thought it would be more fulfilling to be part of the investigation and evidence-tracing. Now, he can’t imagine being any part in the process. “No, I’m not.”

“This would be a good place to start. You take down an actor? Get all the contacts? The cameras and the editing machines, the directors, writers … Who you think they want first?”

Jared’s ready to say writers, because they’re the first step in the creative process, but he just stares into the top of his bottle. “I’m not … I’m not doing that.” He takes a big swig and enjoys the flick of lime juice mixing with the Mexican beer. He smiles gently at Jensen. “I’m honestly interested.”

He takes a long sip himself, eyeing Jared the entire time. It’s a long look and unsettles Jared, and then the guy’s smiling like he means to do that. He finally asks, “What’re you interested in?”

The bottle rests on Jared’s knee and he sits up to bring his many thoughts together. “How long’ve you been doing it?”

Jensen’s lips curl into his mouth and press together. When they push back out, he brings the bottle back up to drink. Carefully, slowly, he speaks. “Maybe fifteen years. Give or take a few.”

Jared’s smile breaks on the left side, a dimple creasing. He sits up further. “You’re still doing it?”

He nods while staring Jared down. 

“What’s it like?”

The muscles in Jensen’s neck clench while he takes a dry swallow, and he’s still staring. He finally takes a sip of beer to wet his mouth and throat so he can talk. “Like nothing you’ve ever known,” he says gently. 

“I thought … this disc?” he asks moving to the edge of the couch cushion and pointing at the plastic on the table. “ _That_ was nothing like I’ve ever known. That movie my grandpa showed me? _It_ was nothing like I’ve ever known.”

Jensen smiles at the light in Jared’s words, how he’s drumming up energy with the excitement of the possibilities in this new world he’s uncovering. “It’s even better,” he says against his beer bottle and takes another sip. 

“What do you do? I mean, how does that even work?”

They spend the next three hours with Jensen filling Jared’s mind with unknown details about script writers who create these alternate universes and directors who give inspiration to actors who pretend to be someone they’ll never be without the words to guide them. He tells him of the sets and backdrops that mentally transport actors to this new world and gives them the unearthly feeling of being somewhere other than an abandoned warehouse or hidden late at night where Propers and Media Agents will never find them. But he goes the most in depth into how he fills his characters with specific ticks and flares of speech. And how clothes and hair and makeup sets him up every time to fall into the person he and the writer and the director have collaborated to create. It’s like the most complicated game of make-believe Jared’s ever heard of and he’s fascinated with it.

All the images fill Jared’s head to the point of a headache. But he begs for more and more. They continue drinking to the point of giddiness and Jared’s smiling so broadly at every morsel that Jensen feeds him of his life and how exciting it is to pretend to be someone else for hours then shed clothes and be himself, leading a double life and all that. It floods Jared’s system and he wants to cry from the sheer exhilaration of this world that Jensen’s lived for the last two decades but Jared never even considered before. He feels foolish, but Jensen takes it all in stride and smiles thoughtfully when he nudges a box of Kleenex across the coffee table. 

“If I’d known you were such a chick,” he starts with a smile, “I’d have gone easy on you. Tell you about one of the shittier movies I did when I was a kid.”

Jared chuckles while drying his cheeks, but the flipping of one emotion to another makes more tears fall and he definitely feels like a girl right here. “I’m sorry. I just … I don’t know. It’s kind of overwhelming.”

He smirks in return. “I guess it can be. To someone who only knows the Freeze.”

“Everyone’s in the Freeze. How did you get around it?”

With a shrug, Jensen picks at the opening of his bottle. “My parents didn’t want to keep us uneducated.”

“I was educated,” Jared argues. 

Jensen continues to play with the edge of the glass, not looking at Jared while he speaks. “They sent us out of state before it hit there. So we could still get liberal arts. They thought it was more important for us to know those things than for us to be with the family every day.”

He eyes him, interested and curious. Jared wonders what his life would be like if he had the same opportunity – to learn about all the emotions and possibilities in creative arts even if it meant he didn’t see his mama, dad, or pa every day. “How did you do that? Without your parents?”

Jensen awkwardly shrugs but the words flow from his mouth. “We talked all the time. And they constantly told us how important it was to be a part of the arts and know what its usefulness was.”

“Which is?”

He smirks. “You cried over my describing the movie system, what do you think it is?”

Jared chuckles. “To make grown men cry?”

Jensen smiles meaningfully. "It’s the emotions. To makes us feel and understand and be entertained. It opens people up to talk about their opinions and their feelings. How all these stories affect us individually.”

He squints back and tries to recall if he does those things with Sandy or his co-workers or even his mama. They’ve talked about how things are, but the words that come up are always ‘tired’ and ‘work’ and ‘love.’ And yeah, they laugh on occasion, but he realizes it doesn’t feel as easy and satisfying as it does here in this living room, about this subject. “You obviously liked it. Getting to do that?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Jensen smiles fondly. “I’m glad they gave me the choice.”

“Choice?” Jared sits up straighter, a bit confused.

“They asked us if we wanted to go. My brother wasn’t so sure, afraid our parents would get sent away just for giving us the opportunity. But my sister and I?” He chuckles as he looks across the room and eyes a family portrait where he’s planted between an older man and a young woman. “We were freaking excited at the chance to see things our friends wouldn’t ever know again. I jumped at it in an instant.”

This part of Jensen’s speech hits Jared in his stomach, tumbling around and reminding him of what’d happened on his last shift. He suddenly wants children to have a choice and for the laws to let them all off the hook. Issue the parents warnings and remove the items instead of carting them off to jail for any quantity of discards. Jared swallows hard. “We had a family this morning. Little girls, couldn’t have been more than ten? Movies and games in their room.”

Jensen shakes his head and takes the last swig of beer from his bottle. He looks angry and it seems directed at Jared for being a part of the story.

“By the time we got there, they were gone. I don’t know where, but I bet some other family had ‘em? Big brother took the blame.”

“Brave kid,” Jensen murmurs. 

Jared swallows again, staring on his bottle but not wanting to give himself the relief of liquid. He feels like he needs to suffer with a dry mouth through this story because he’s not proud of being there. Though he is proud of his next words. “He was sixteen. He’ll probably only get two years. I told him to take the blame.”

“You what?”

He snaps to Jensen’s attention, noting the surprise in that voice. He shrugs awkwardly, “The other girl was fourteen. He’d only get two years.”

“What about the parents?” he asks, quiet and careful. 

Jared shakes his head and barely breaks a smile at the thought that he’d saved the family from being gutted. True, the boy would be gone for two years, but it couldn’t compare to what would’ve happened. “With the youngest two gone, we couldn’t do anything. I told everyone the kid stole it for fun.”

“Yeah, but,” and Jensen sits forward in his chair, worried for this family he doesn’t know. “Won’t the kid get more for theft?”

“Maybe another year?”

His eyes narrow and the voice goes sharp, hitting Jared in the chest. “You set that boy up for three years?”

Jared stares right back, his voice going sharp as well. “You rather I send three girls under fifteen to detention? The parents, too?”

Jensen leans back and goes quiet. 

“Maybe that’d be the answer? At least they’re all locked up together?” he bites again. 

“No, I … whatever.” Jensen sighs and goes for his bottle again, but it’s been empty for too long and he pushes it onto the table with a loud rattle as it spins around before settling. “No. You’re right.”

His voice goes low, sounding a little troubled. Because he absolutely is right here, reliving the night and what he has to deal with so regularly. His eyes water on the thought and his voice is a little emotional, breaking with the memory of it. “It’s bad all around. I just tried to do the best thing for them all.”

Jensen’s mouth moves around, like he’s fighting with what he wants to say. He tips his head back and stares at the ceiling for a long while before finally saying, “You did.” He looks back at Jared with a slightly fond look. “You absolutely did.”

Jared pushes his thumb and forefinger into his eyes to lessen the tears and he’s breathing deep to steady himself. 

Jensen rises from his chair and grabs the cardboard box that now only holds three beers as he moves out of the room. “I think next time we should go easy on the beer.”

He chuckles, realizing the alcohol is streaming his brain, making him a bit melodramatic. This is not exactly the second impression he wanted to give Jensen – he likes to imagine that the first time he saw the guy, when he burned Jensen's neighbor's discards on the front lawn, doesn’t count. Once Jared’s settled himself from these emotions, he leans back over the side of the couch to see Jensen down the hall, in the kitchen. “That show? With the brothers?”

Jensen twists a bit to see Jared watching him. “Yeah?”

“What’s it called?”

He smirks as he’s cleaning things off the counter. “Supernatural.”

“Huh,” he nearly sighs. Then he looks back over. “Where can I get more of that?”

Jensen looks down the hallway and even with the distance Jared can tell he’s staring him down and judging what’s on his face. To see if he’s truly interested or just wants to find out where these things are really coming from. Without a word, Jensen’s gone from his sight. Jared hears shuffling from the far end of the house and random steps. He sighs and rests back against the couch, cursing himself out for forcing this on Jensen. He’s already gotten hours-worth of stories on how the media system works and what kinds of things people create and why. He shouldn’t have pushed his luck. “Here,” Jensen says gently as he drops a package in Jared’s lap.

He looks down on it and suddenly Jensen and the brother are staring back up at him. He grabs the box with careful hands, like he can’t believe what lies beneath the pictures and graphics. He checks all sides of it, admiring the detail to the covers. He has seen so many boxes just like this, but he never has the chance to _look_ at them. His breath goes deep into his lungs and his mouth curves up before he’s smiling up at Jensen. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he nods with a quirk of his mouth. “Just promise the next time you bust someone, you’ll go easy on them again.”

He chuckles a little, just imaging himself as the soft agent who steps aside with all the criminals and tells them how to best deal with the situation and get the least amount of time. “What? Like I’m your inside man?”

Jensen pats a hand at Jared’s shoulder. “You could be _our_ inside man.”

His mouth quirks with the uncomfortable notion of jeopardizing his job and his life by working on this side of the law. It’s exciting, sure, to be a part of this world and to be in an actor’s space to hear about it. But he doesn’t want to be busted for a single thing. Even if he now has a _full season_ of Supernatural in his lap. “I, uh,” he finally says awkwardly.

A hand runs over Jared’s head playfully before it taps lightly. “Don’t come back until you’re done with that season. Then we’ll talk.”

He smiles unevenly, trying his best to feel okay with this new situation. His heart is warming with the opportunity to watch more media, to feel the way he did that morning he took in one episode four times over. But it’s the hypocritical notion of possessing these discs and being an agent. At putting Sandy at odds for having it in their house. 

“C’mon, you’re depressing me now,” Jensen jokes as he pats at Jared’s head again. “Get outta here before you make my slit my wrists.”

At the doorway, Jared’s hand goes to Jensen’s shoulder and squeezes. “Thank you.”

Jensen nods in return, slowly and with meaning. 

“This is awesome,” he says with wonder while flipping the box over in his hand and the other one is still holding Jensen. He finally pats at the guy’s shoulder and gives a genuine, albeit small, smile. The thrill of having more media to watch finally overcomes the notion of being caught and his dimples anchor a large smile.


	4. Part Three

The few hours he has between leaving Jensen’s and having to work are spent watching the show, engrossed by the relationships and stories and characters. He’s in front of the computer, completely mesmerized by the whole thing – the sets, costumes, the world that’s been created, and most of all the _acting_. The way Jensen moves through each scene, how one tick of his shoulder shows insecurity, a flex of his jaw gives away controlled anger. Jared wonders if Jensen’s power on screen is now enhanced with the notion that he _knows_ this man, has sat in his living room, and has shared conversations with him. 

He’s pretty certain it is. Because in the middle of his viewing, Sandy’s calling and his voice is open and humored. He gets a little over-anxious with trying to pretend he’s not doing anything illegal and is just sitting around the house. He lays on a simple, happy tone to the conversation. “Hey there! How’re you doing?”

“It’s busy,” she sighs. “But it’s better than not, right?”

“Yeah, I hear ya. What’s up?”

“I talked to Sophia about the weekend and they said next weekend’s best.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. That’s great,” he returns with a push to his voice, like he’s really excited about having Chad and his girlfriend over. He’s not _not_ looking forward to it, but it’s not really the highlight of his day. Getting back to the discs and the world his mind’s wrapped around is. 

There’s a flurry of noise on her end and she’s distracted, as if her mind is following whatever’s happening in front of her but her mouth continues on. “I don’t know what we’ll make.”

Jared’s finger is tapping at the mouse and awaiting the moment he can start the show up again. His eyes are watching the movement and it’s making him more antsy. He chuckles and smiles. “You always find something good to make. I trust you.”

She pauses then asks oddly, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” he asks easily.

“You sound … I don’t know. Weird.”

He sits up in the chair, alarmed by her words – had thought he was covering things up, not sounding out of sorts, but apparently she hears something different. He tries to level his voice out. “Weird?”

“Yeah, like ... goofy.”

Jared wants to smirk at the notion, that being goofy is weird and wrong. But he frowns as he thinks about all the engaging ways he drew her in when they first started dating, and how often they had laughed over inane conversations and mindless activities that filled the void of what generations before them did on dates – like going out to movies and concerts. His voice drops while his fingernails scratch out random lines in the desk. “I don’t know … I feel fine.”

She sighs again. “Okay. Well, I have to get back to the station. I just had a few minutes and wanted to hear your voice.”

He smiles gently, thinking fondly of her and willing some comfort through the lines. “I’d hug ya if I was there.”

There’s a pause, like she’s again critiquing the tone in his voice, but she eventually says, “Thank you. I’d love that when I see you next.”

His finger is finally allowed to restart the show and most of his conversation with her is forgotten, those odd, worried feelings replaced by Jensen and his on-screen brother fighting their way across the country. When he’s at work, exhausted by not napping at home like he usually does, he can’t stop thinking about Jensen and replaying every scene the guy appeared in. Jared is solidly focused on that man and can’t shake it. Or his character. Or the current plot arcs. Or the scenery. Everything, really. It all floods his mind and he’s startled by all the emotions. There’s wonder with where the story’s going mixed with anger at a particular character’s actions. He’s conflicted between the two brothers and how they are constantly at war with each other. But then he’s full of giddiness at even experiencing the whole thing. 

Jeff notices it first, smirking but asking carefully, “Had a nice break today?”

Jared tries not to smile and fusses with laying his uniform out by his cot. He’s thinking mostly of his time spent at Jensen’s and the rest of his hours with the Supernatural discs, and it’s a bit thrilling to have these thoughts while standing among the people who contribute to stopping these very feelings. “Yeah, got a lot done around the house,” he finally lies, sounding distracted to make it a non-issue.

His boss is still eyeing him. “Sandy doing good?”

“Yeah,” he nods and looks up with a slight smile. “She’s fine.”

Chad sits on his cot, looking between Jeff and Jared. “Sophia said she’s picking up extra shifts? They going that crazy over there?”

Jared shrugs and sits on his own cot. “I guess so. Haven’t actually seen her too much lately.” He looks up to Jeff. “Between these schedules, ya know?”

The older man’s eyes crinkle in near-suspicion before he nods slowly. “You look tired, Pads. Maybe grab some shut-eye.”

He grins, “Not such a bad idea.”

Jared sleeps on and off, woken by random outbursts from the poker game in the corner. The one he doesn’t give a lick about because while his eyes are closed, he’s either visualizing or all-out dreaming about Supernatural and everything he’d seen on that screen. He can’t wait to get home to watch more, but knows he has to ration his viewings for when Sandy’s not home. But he’s dying to finish it up and run right back to Jensen to spill all these emotions running through his body. To share all his thoughts and theories on what’s been going on and what’s behind it all. 

All the excitement means he gets little to no sleep during his twelve-hour shift, and he’s not the least bit disappointed that there’s no alarm. In the past he’d grumble about wasting so many hours at the Lounge with no action. Today, he’s glad he doesn’t have to face off with someone who feels the way he does now. Stimulated and excited by the media.

*

It’s when he gets home and finds Sandy cooking breakfast, as always, that he sobers up. Not so much so he can shield his feelings from her, but because it’s all knocked back into perspective. He loves her and has always said he’d do everything in his power to protect her. But that box of six discs hiding in a toolbox in the utility closet is doing anything but. It’s opening them both up for trouble and just the thought of either of them being imprisoned for it scares him. Having Sandy put away for his foolishness, or even him being sent to jail and leaving her behind, shocks the elation he’d been riding all day right out of his system and brings real life back to the forefront. 

He suddenly remembers their phone call, how tired she’d sounded and what he’d offered her. Coming up behind her, his arms circle her waist and squeeze as he kisses the top of her head. She leans back in his embrace and closes her eyes, ignoring the eggs sizzling on the stovetop. He squeezes tighter, making playful “Mmm” noise and grins into her hair. 

She makes a short sound, like a squelched giggle, and he feels it rumble against him. He tugs her in even tighter and does the sound again, going so far as to jimmy her in his hold and chuckle himself. 

Sandy’s going with it and laughing, but only for a few, short moments, and then she’s pulling away. Her face seems confused, as if she doesn’t understand why he’d just done that or why she even had that response. Because he knows it’s been such a long time since they’ve laughed together. She eyes him with a strange glance before going back to the food she’s cooking. “You sure you okay?”

Leaning against the counter, he crosses his arms and ankles, feeling relaxed to be home and seeing her, but also because in just thirty minutes, she’ll be on her way to work and he’ll end up watching more Supernatural. His voice is light and there’s no effort to make it that way. He just feels good. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You’re acting so strangely today.” He cocks his head in question and she uses the spatula in her hand to motion at him, moving it up and down. “This. And the call earlier. You’re smiling and all _happy_. What have you been doing when I’m not here?”

It’s not accusatory, but it’s a little suspicious. He can hear it there. His mouth works silently as he watches her profile and runs any number of excuses through his mind. He finally settles on, “Just been sleeping really well.”

“Maybe too much?” she asks, her voice laced with doubt. 

“Maybe,” he shrugs. 

*

It’s over the next few days and hours-long marathons in between twelve-hour shifts with as little sleep he can squeeze in and still function that he’s able to complete Supernatural. He’s jumpy through his whole shift that evening, waiting until morning to rush over to Jensen’s so they can talk about it, so Jared can gush on and on about how magnificent it all was, and how he wants more and more. Anything Jensen can give him, he wants to take and indulge on. 

But first, he has to travel across town to answer an alarm, and do the job he’s been paid to do for far too long, now that he thinks about it. The whole ride is spent thinking about what he could do with himself if he weren’t an agent and wondering how easy it would be to change trades. When he was in high school, he thought about building things – like construction and architecture, being able to use his hands to mold a structure and see it rise before his very eyes. The dream had died so quickly and so quietly when his father passed in Jared’s senior year that the first job out there became his only answer. And now it’s his greatest disappointment. 

At the house, they uncover a rash of compact discs lining closets in every bedroom as well as multiple players. As if each of the three children and two parents had their own collection that filled every hour of every day. The children look a little lost, like they can’t believe they’ve been found out, but the parents are what really hit Jared. They’re stoic and standing tall, almost bold. He eyes them throughout the search, while he rummages through their dressers and desks and cabinets to find any proof of purchase for any of the multitude of items across the home. They’re steady in their gaze and he’s uncomfortable with it all. 

At one point, he’s alone with the father, who’s handcuffed to the handle of a kitchen drawer, while Chad leads the mother outside. “You proud of yourself?” the man asks with just a slight tang of bitterness. 

Jared glances up but goes back to his hunt. He thinks about it and takes in the man’s tone, the set of his jaw, and the steady pace of his words. He knows his answer, and is shocked to hear how clear the words tumble out, slow and steady himself. “Not much at all, honestly.”

“You even know what you’re taking away here?”

He thinks of the fact that at this very moment, in this house, a family is being divided and locked away. But, he really knows what the man’s asking of him. It burns in his throat as he considers what would happen if someone found the Supernatural discs in his home, how he and Sandy would be split up and taken away. It’s not the first time he’s considered it, but this is the first time it feels real, standing in the kitchen of a soon-to-be deserted home and conversing with the head of a split family. “Yeah, I got it,” he mumbles as he stands tall, deciding to halt his search for the time being. 

“That music … it soars and it fills this home with love and joy and sorrow and so many feelings you’ve never experienced.”

The father can’t be but a decade older than Jared, but he’s speaking like it’s generational. Like Jared only knows one way to live because he’s young and naive. He realizes he always knew there were other things to experience life, ever since his grandfather told him all those stories. But he just went with what he was told, what his mother expected and expounded. And for all that could come from being found out, he wouldn’t trade it in for the emotions he’s had since he watched that first TV show. “Yeah, I _got it_ ,” he repeats with a little more pressure in his voice. 

Jared moves to the pantry and whistles low when he steps inside, spotting all the cased DVDs lining the far wall. Everything dumps into his stomach and it’s the thrill of this many movies and TV shows combined with the horror of how much media this family owns and what that will do to the parents’ detention sentences. Either way, he walks forward, fingers swiping the spines of the cases, taking in the names of so many stories he’s never heard of, had never dreamed of wanting to know. They don’t mean anything to him – not knowing what kinds of things were ever created – but he imagines they must be good, based on how the family carries themselves to be cultured and well-educated. His fingers crawl their way through more boxes and then stop abruptly at the Supernatural box. He smirks a little, rubbing the pad up and down the spine before tipping it down so he can turn it over in his hands. 

“See what you’re missing?”

When Jared turns around, the father is stretched as far as possible, his head barely tipping into view. But it’s enough that he sees the cocky smirk and a flip of his eyebrow. Jared chuckles, realizing that so many of these people they come across are full of moxie and heat for what they watch, what they love, what they believe in. And he wonders if he’ll ever get to that point. 

“Jare, Propers’ll be here in ten. Let’s get pops – ” Chad halts in the doorway as he’s nudging the father out of the way. He whistles much like Jared did, but Jared thinks it’s more of an excited ‘we totally busted them’ kind of thing. Not awed like his had been. “Holy jackpot.” Jared chuckles uncomfortably, Supernatural still at his fingers when Chad comes up next to him. “What’s that? Got a good chick on the cover?”

“Nah, I uh,” Jared stumbles. 

Chad stares at him with doubt strong in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Just … never seen so much,” he replies honestly. Then he shrugs oddly and tosses the box to the ground like he doesn’t care. But he does, because he feels a ripple of tension shock his spine at watching himself act so carelessly with the box. And it burns when Chad starts hauling armfuls of DVD cases out of the room, smirking the whole time and jabbering on about how this is the biggest crack they’ve ever made.

*

He’s tired and worn out when he returns home. Enough so that he gives Sandy a random kiss on the cheek and goes straight to bed. She checks on him, but for the first time in a week, he’s tired enough that he doesn’t need to fake sleeping. He just closes his eyes and it comes to him quicker than he hopes. 

As it nears noon, he stirs lazily, but then bolts upright when he realizes the time. He runs through a quick shower and dresses before rushing out the door. He’s quick about it all, and even quicker when he knocks on Jensen’s front door. 

Jensen answers with a crooked eyebrow. “Dude, what’s your deal?”

He frowns a little and tries to tamper the energy down. But now that he sees Jensen before him, he just can’t. His mouth turns into a bright smile when he forms the words that excuse his appearance and his mood. “I finished it.”

With a short nod, Jensen opens the screen door. “Alright, yeah. Just, you know, hold off on the banging on the door.”

Jared smirks and holds up a coffee carrier. “It wasn’t quite noon when I left. Didn’t know how serious you were about rules.”

A tiny smirk forms and Jensen breathes out a little loudly. He reaches for the carrier. “Just get in here. Jesus.”

They spend the afternoon talking about themes and subtext and characters and motivation behind all the plot arcs, and Jared’s beaming the entire time. The next day he considers running over to Jensen’s to talk more, as if they didn’t get to everything he wanted to discuss, but he fears being too antsy about the whole thing. So he waits one more day before arriving around ten in the morning with another coffee tray and a handful of donuts. Two days later, he brings a few breakfast sandwiches from the nearby coffee shop. 

It continues this way, and when Sandy asks where he goes, he excuses it away as some new guy from work. A Proper he met on the job. And she’s kind of happy for him to be making new friends, but she’s still leery when he comes home and has a permanent smile on his face. Throughout this, he’s watching more and more Supernatural, courtesy of Jensen. They continue talking all about it. And he continues bringing beer and lunch or coffee and breakfast as if they serve as the entry fee. 

Jensen’s grateful for the drinks and food, but he still gives Jared a hard time about it. Nearly a month into this strange relationship, Jensen’s eyebrow quirks. “It’s like you’re courting me.”

Jared smirks in return. “Whatever keeps me on your good side.”

The amusement falls from Jensen’s face. “You know what would do that,” he murmurs around his coffee cup. 

“More beer,” Jared chuckles. But Jensen isn’t changing his stance and then he’s staring down at the cup in his hands. “What?”

Jensen shifts in his seat, placing his coffee on the table before him. “Look. I don’t mind you coming here and gushing about all this stuff. Yeah, it’s a little awkward for you to be, like, in love with my stuff. But nonetheless, I don’t mind it.”

“Yeah? I don’t …” Jared drifts off, not understanding where it’s leading.

His mouth quirks with difficulty. “But you rave about the show, and then you leave and go to work where you bust people for owning this stuff. It’s getting slightly uncomfortable that I’m sharing all the tricks of the trade, but then you put people away who are _in_ the trade.”

Jared’s face drops, as does his stomach and every other happy bit of emotion inside of him. Because it absolutely makes sense, but he wishes there was an exception here in this house. He feels like he’s made an exception to be there, even if it’s his curiosity driving him there every time he visits. But he still feels like this was a give-and-take thing here in the living room where they can discuss things and engage each other. He sighs and slowly rises, suddenly feeling out of place. Even though it’s been a few weeks they’ve been doing this. “Guess I never thought of it that way.”

Jensen rises and collects the garbage on the coffee table. He mumbles, “Yeah, I bet not,” and then he’s in the kitchen to deposit the trash. 

He goes through the living room to right things they’d messed with – a few trinkets on the side table that Jared’s fingers always play with, the pillows on the couch that had been pushed aside – and he puts the final season of Supernatural, the one he still has to watch, on top of the fourth season he’d brought with him to return. 

Working a towel between his hands, Jensen sets in the doorway and watches Jared moving around. While he knows Jared knows he’s there – how his shoulders tensed when the floorboards creaked beneath his feet told him so – he doesn’t say anything. But the way Jared won’t look up and only at whatever he’s fussing with is the sign of where they’re at right now. Jared’s eyes sweep the room, still avoiding Jensen but seeking out his jacket. It’s near Jensen, and when Jared shuffles over to grab it, Jensen gets it first and tucks it into his grip. “I’m sorry.”

Jared finally looks him in the eye and Jensen’s slight frown eases him up. “No. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine it’s easy for you to have an agent show up at your door all the time.”

They watch each other and Jared spots Jensen’s fingers curling around the jacket and how they squeeze and release along with his labored breathing. The hands drop and Jensen glances to his feet before he finds Jared’s face again. “Look, I’m sorry. It was rude for me to put that out there.”

“No, you’re absolutely right. It’s hypocritical of me to be here like this all the time.” He scratches at his chin and breathes deep. “No doubt annoying, too.”

Jensen’s mouth tightens but Jared thinks he sees the corner flip just so as the man fights a smile. “You bring good food.”

Jared can’t stop the tiny smile before it’s there, but he’s feeling a little better about it so he allows it to be real. “At least I get that right.”

The jacket’s handed over and Jensen moves over to the coffee table, picking up the Supernatural case. He puts it in the air between them without a word. Jared looks questioningly between Jensen and the box. “Lucifer just got out. You don’t wanna know the rest?”

He breathes deep, but this time happily, and closes the space between them to grab the box. “Of course I do,” he beams. He flips the case in his hands, like he has with the last four Jensen loaned him. His eyes coast through the description on the back and he’s mumbling the words to himself with a smile and two dimples. Jared looks up with the same big smile. “I’ll be back when it’s done.”

Jensen claps a hand at Jared’s back and smiles softly. “You can come earlier if you want.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

He’s shaking his head and the hand pats then swipes up and down a few times. “You won’t.”

Jared stares for a few moments and without even considering the implications or the complications of it, he reaches forward and envelops Jensen. Arms and hands winding around the man’s back and he’s surprised by how quickly Jensen returns it. “Thanks, man,” Jared mumbles as he thumps his palms at Jensen’s back. 

As they pull back, Jensen’s hands hold Jared’s biceps and he’s smiling as well. “Don’t worry about it.” He playfully slaps Jared’s shoulder. “I forgot what it’s like to have a fan.”

*

Every other day or so, Jared makes his way to Jensen’s and they talk just as much as before, but it gets more animated as Jared runs a gamut of emotions with the sweeping final story arc of demons and angels and the devil all getting their part in tormenting the brothers. Jensen allows it all, smiling along with Jared and not once portraying a hint of annoyance. Their talk about Jared’s job versus his new habits is never brought up again, and even while Jared fears the day it’s discussed again, he’s thankful it here isn’t yet. 

He continues on to work and battles the conflicting sensations of what media now does to him – the exhilaration of each new episode – with his career to stop people who feel that way. At one house, where a young couple is found with a whole library of compact discs and old-time records, he does his best to remain stoic. Just the way he’d been before he ever considered watching a single TV show. But it’s hard when faced with their nearly comforting looks that tell him they understand they were wrong and they’re breaking the law, but they’re fairly okay with the punishment. Like it’s worth it. 

When he escorts them to the van to wait for the Propers, the couple is quietly murmuring loving, encouraging things. He hears the man tell the wife that they’ll still hear the music. She responds that it’ll never stop for her and she loves him. And as they continue going, leaning heads close to each other and the man starts recounting one of the early days of their relationship, Jared’s chest tightens. 

“Remember the first night? At the apartment,” the husbands asks gently and with a smile.

“The one on Wilkshire?”

“That one,” he smiles again. “Remember I burned the chicken?”

She chuckles with emotion. “Yes. But the wine was spectacular.”

He nods. “And after dinner, we listened to the music and we danced?”

Her mouth breaks on an emotional smile and her eyes are shiny. 

“Remember the song?” The husband begins to sing quietly and it’s all Jared can do to not break down right with them. _Something in the way she moves, attracts me like no other lover. Something in the way she woos me._

When the woman’s eyes fill with tears and she smiles making a few drops fall down her face, Jared feels his eyes warm. He turns away before they see it and he rubs his finger and thumb against his eyes, scrubbing palms up and down his face to steady it all. 

“Pads! Get over here,” Jeff calls out. 

Jared takes another steadying breath, rubs once more down his face, and joins his co-workers at the fire that’s destroying all the memories this couple has built. “Yeah,” he says tiredly. 

His boss eyes him suspiciously. “You okay?”

He rubs a finger to the edge of his eye to take care of any moisture and he nods. “Yeah, I think it’s the smoke from the fire,” he lies.

The way all three look at him is unmistakable. There’s doubt and confusion there, especially when Chad speaks up. “What the hell are you talking about? We smoke everything. All the time.”

Jared rubs at his face once more, mostly to hide any worry that might flash across it while he thinks up another lie. “I don’t know. It’s really bugging me today. We’re usually inside longer.”

The Propers show up and Jeff orders Jake to help Chad this time, leaving Jared alone with him. The guy drops a few more CDs into the flames and won’t look at Jared while he gruffs, “Jared, what’s going on?”

“With what?” he asks while he stares down into the fire to avoid the accusation in his boss’s face. 

“You been weird for months now. I don’t know what your deal is, but there’s something going on.”

He chances a glance up and sees the steady face and seeking eyes. The man is not happy in the slightest. Jared looks back down to the orange and red destroying media and his stomach rolls with the image. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”

There’s a long pause and Jared’s sure the guy’s letting it go. But when he looks up, Jeff is staring at him and finally says, “I think you do.” Jared stares back, praying that his face won’t betray a single thing coursing through his brain – which is anything from Jensen to his mother’s definitive support of the Freeze to Supernatural to the space movie he saw as a kid with his grandfather. Jeff’s voice goes hard. “And I think I do, too.”

Jared’s shaking his head, but Jeff raises a hand to silence him. 

“You fix it. Or I will.”

*

Sandy calls out to him the second he’s through the door. “Jared? You hungry?”

He’s antsy and angry over the conversation with Jeff. It doesn’t help that once they’d returned to the station, the guys set out for their poker game and didn’t say much else to him for the remainder of their shift. He’s thankful none of them tried to fish for answers to how he was behaving, but it put him more on edge to be ignored. And Sandy’s immediate attention is making him even edgier. “Just gimme a second,” he yells back, but then he winces at the anger lacing his words. 

When he’s in the kitchen, she offers him a small smile and he tries his best to give one, too, when he dips down to kiss her. “You okay?” she asks gently.

He huffs as he sits at the kitchen table. “Just a rough day.”

When she brings him a plate of eggs and toast, he’s downing a cup of coffee and not looking at her. She sits across from him and keeps the softness in her voice. “What happened? Jeff said – ”

Jared drops the fork at his plate with a loud clatter and he sighs. “What the hell?”

“Jared?”

“He called here?” he grits out angrily. 

“Yeah, he just said to keep an eye on you.”

Jared bites out a laugh and shakes his head. He stands and decides to ignore his breakfast. “Yeah, that’s great.”

“Jared? He said you’d been rough today.”

“Whatever,” he grunts back as he goes to the bedroom. 

Sandy follows but he’s ignoring her as he changes from his work pants and undershirt into jeans and a clean tee. “What happened? He said you’ve been acting weird.”

“Yeah. You know what I did today?” he asks with irritation, but it’s remarkably controlled. “I arrested two people. Like us. Young couple. Because they listen to music. The guy sang to her on the front lawn to comfort her through the whole thing.”

“Jared, I know you’re having a hard time right now. But it’s always been like this.”

He chuckles harshly. “Not like this. No.”

“It didn’t get to you before.”

Jared turns and can’t help how his voice booms through the room or how he angrily tosses his hands around. The shirt in his hand punctuates his emotion. “Yeah, you know why it’s getting to me? I’m putting people in _jail_. We break up families and send them to _detention_. And for what? Because they like the way something sounds? Or they watch a movie that makes them _feel_ something?” He stops, chest heaving and mouth dry, and realizes all of what he said. He throws the shirt back into the closet and shouts again, “Jesus Christ!”

“What are you even talking about?” she asks. But this time, her voice is angry with him and not trying to console him. “This has always been your job. And they’re breaking the _law_ , Jared. Everyone else in the world gets by without media. _We_ get by just fine without it.”

His shoulders drop and he sighs. The words tumble out before he can stop them. “ _You_ get by without it.”

“What’re you talking about? We don’t have any – ” And here, her eyes widen, mouth breaks open and her voice pitches just enough to hit him in the chest. “You didn’t.” He stares back, almost issuing the dare for her to ask. “Tell me you didn’t.” His chin rises. “Jared! You told me you took care of it!”

“I took the disc out of this house like you asked me to.” Jared nearly smirks with how honest that statement is and how he’s hiding so much else. 

But they’ve been together for years and she can read most every expression he ever gives her. She just usually lets them go; this time she doesn’t. “Are you bringing stuff here?” she nearly shrieks.

He breathes deeply and it serves as his answer. 

Sandy steps forward and pounds a tight fist into his chest. “You … you! I cannot believe you!” He stays silent, giving her this moment, but he does grab her wrist so she won’t swing at him again. “What if someone finds it? We’ll _both_ go to jail! I cannot believe you’d put me in trouble like that.”

The way her voice breaks at the end hits him and he instinctively pulls her in to hug. But she fights against him and he lets her go. “Sandy,” he tries, but she’s waving a hand at him. 

Her voice gets hard as she issues her directives. “Do not even attempt to explain this one. I don’t want to know where it is. I want it all gone by the time I get home from work.”

He nods numbly and lets her leave for work, not bothering to argue more or explain anything away. He knows all this. That he shouldn’t have it, that he’s putting her at risk. But the way he’s been feeling these last two months and seeing how so many people he’s arrested are still thankful they even experienced media … it’s more for him right now than the danger of being caught.

*

When Jensen opens his door, his surprise is not in Jared’s presence, but more the way the guy looks fevered and aggravated. As he pushes the screen open, he asks carefully, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just a rough morning.” As soon as he’s in the foyer, he curses softly. “You know, I just ran right over here. Didn’t even think to bring anything.”

Jensen smirks and pats him on the back, leading him to the kitchen. “C’mon. I’ll make something.” He gets the coffee maker going and some butter into a pan before cracking a few eggs open. “So what’s the story?”

“Hmm?” Jared asks dumbly as he takes in Jensen’s kitchen. It’s clean and orderly, but he’s struck with the colors of blue and green across the walls considering how plain the living room looks. Stainless steel appliances and marble counters clash with the image of the tattered couch and armchair in the other part of the house. “Nice kitchen,” he murmurs, forgetting Jensen’s question.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Quite a change from the living room.”

Jensen looks over his shoulder quickly, then back down to the stove. “Yeah, well, I don’t spend much time in there.” There’s an odd pause in the room and he adds, “Aside from you visiting, I suppose.” Jensen continues at the stove, dropping bread into the toaster while minding the scrambling of eggs. “Never seen you this angry.”

Jared rubs a hand over his face again and finally plants himself into a kitchen chair. “Sandy knows.”

His hands stop and he breathes deep before turning towards Jared. “And?”

“I don’t know. We fought this morning. She says it should all be out of the house before she gets home.”

When Jared won’t look at anything but the walls, Jensen turns back to the stove and finishes up his cooking. “And?”

Jared tugs the final Supernatural case from the pouch on his hoodie and drops it onto the table with a loud noise. “I guess I go cold turkey.”

Jensen puts the plates down without a word, and it remains silent as they eat the quick breakfast and drink coffee. Even before Jensen’s done eating, he puts his fork down and leans back in the chair to watch Jared. The man’s just hunched over his plate, scooping eggs to his mouth and biting angrily at toast. Once Jared is done, too, Jensen puts the plates into the sink and then kicks at Jared’s foot before walking out the back end of the kitchen. “C’mere.”

He’s up and following but confusion floods him and his voice. “What’s going on?” It gets stranger when Jensen unlocks a door at the end of the hallway and leads Jared in. It’s a small office with nothing of note besides a desk and clichéd art on the walls – like pastel flowers and park benches – but then Jensen’s kneeling in the corner, pulling back a rug, and working another lock that’s bolted to the floorboards. It lifts seconds later and Jensen’s smirking again. 

“What is that?”

Jensen scoots to the opening and steps down a ladder. “The living room.” And then he’s gone and Jared’s cautiously looking down the space that’s suddenly illuminated from within. Jensen’s face comes back into view. “You coming?”

He nods slowly and makes his way down the steps. As soon as he turns around, his stomach flips and his head whirls at the underground space fixed up the way Jared had imagined Jensen’s place would really look. Movies posters cover the walls, a giant flat screen TV anchors one corner while floor-to-ceiling shelves hold down the other side, full of movie cases. Likely the sum of all the media Jared’s seen in the last year of his career. “Holy shit,” he says with wonder before taking another step into the room.

With a chuckle, Jensen crouches before the shelves to find a movie. “Nice, huh?”

“Oh, man,” Jared wonders again, but he’s finally moving into the room and looking at everything to fully comprehend it. “Now _this_ is exactly how I thought you’d live.”

Jensen turns to the entertainment center with a case in hand and fires up the system. “You think I’m gonna have something like this in the front of the house? For everyone to see?”

Jared nods, feeling dumb right here. “Alright, yeah.” They settle into the plush, dark couch, and Jensen gets through the menu screen. “What is this?”

His mouth quirks, “It’s a TV.”

Jared elbows Jensen and frowns. “Not that. What’re you putting on?”

He looks over and the smile is gentle but it’s contagious and Jared’s smiling, too. “Just a little something to cheer you up.”

There is nothing in this moment that Jared fully understands. Jensen has let him into his secret hiding place, where everything that his life is _really_ about exists. Where he truly experiences life and all it has to offer in all the titles stacked up against the wall and shown in all the posters across the space. And he’s about to ask him about all that when a distinctive set of chords comes from the surround sound system and there’s text crawling up the screen. His eyes widen to Jensen’s without even looking at the TV. He _knows_ what this is. It’s been years, _so_ many years, but it was his first taste and he never truly put it out of his mind.

Jensen smirks again and leans back into the couch as he deposits the remote at the side table. His legs kick up to the ottoman and he crosses his arms. “It’s called Star Wars.”

Jared can’t take his eyes away from the man as so many emotions wash right over him. It occurs to him exactly what’s been happening over the last two months and in addition to Jared learning so much about this underground world, he’s gained Jensen’s trust. Enough so that they’re in his secret lair and Jensen’s giving him this moment that was cut short 22 years ago. Not too long into the movie, but long enough that Jared has been thinking hard about it, he looks back over to the guy. “Jensen,” he says with meaning.

He looks over and is still smirking. “You’re gonna miss something if you keep staring at me.”

“No. But, I mean …” 

Jensen points at the screen again. “So there’s Obi Wan Kenobi. Old Ben, remember? He does the hand trick,” and Jensen swipes his hand into the air while his voice goes soft. “These are not the droids you’re looking for.”

Jared’s gaze softens while Jensen talks and he knows what the guy’s saying, explaining the few moments they just missed, but he can’t stop watching him with wonder and care for the fact that he’s been allowed this far into the man’s life. 

“It’s a mind trick. He makes the agents think exactly what he wants him to.”

Suddenly, his eyes burn and his vision is blurry. A corner of his mind is embarrassed by this, but he’s pretty sure Jensen knows where it’s coming from and why, and the guy doesn’t say anything about it. He just smiles and pats a comforting hand to Jared’s head. 

*

As the closing credits roll, Jared is flushed with excitement, can’t keep the words inside him. He’s raving about the droids and the action sequences, the tension between Leia and Han and Luke, and the creative life forms that pop up. He feels like a child as he gushes about it all, and Jensen’s even getting a bit excited by it and laughing, smiling bright, while he counters and responds to any and all of Jared’s statements. It’s the most Jared’s experienced Jensen creating and keeping the conversation going. It’s usually Jared’s questions and Jensen’s answers, but here it’s _Jensen_ starting thoughts like, “There’s been this huge debate on whether Greedo shot first or Han did.”

“Do _not_ tell me Han did first. I refuse to believe it.” Jensen’s grinning like he’s lost his mind, like Jared usually is. “Wait, no. Because Han’s pretty badass. I think he’d do it.”

“Han’s not even the best part. Leia and Luke get their own business going later. They get pretty hard. You liked this? You’ll love the next one.”

Jared pauses for a moment. “Next one?” he asks quietly.

Jensen laughs. “It’s a trilogy. There’re two more.”

“Oh, fuck me,” he says, but it’s with wonder and a touch of care. 

An eyebrow raises and Jensen’s chuckling along with him. He pats at Jared’s knee as he rises. “We can watch that next time.”

Jared stands before him and his eyes smile for him, keeping with Jensen’s and portraying all the care he feels in this moment. “Next time?”

He shrugs awkwardly. “You can’t bring it home anymore. Just come here and we’ll watch stuff.”

The catch of breath in his lungs burns but it’s a good burn. And then his cheeks are stinging from smiling so hard and for so long. Jared reaches forward to hug Jensen and it’s full-bodied, from their waists up to the way his chin tucks against the side of Jensen’s neck. “You have no idea,” he murmurs. “Thank you so much.”

Jensen holds him back and eventually pats his palms at Jared’s back before pulling away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, seriously,” Jared nods.

A hand comes up to hold the side of Jared’s head and Jensen’s look is soft and steady. Neither of them wavers from this contact – both with Jensen’s hand and their eyes. Jared feels it crackle between him and he’s grateful to have this friendship, these experiences, this connection with Jensen. Jared reaches for Jensen’s head much the same way. Jensen says gently, “You’re a really good guy, Jared. I haven’t done this for anyone before.”

Jared’s hand settles at Jensen’s shoulder and squeezes. “Have you had a lot ask before?”

He shrugs and his hand slips down to his neck and presses in a little. “No, not a lot. But I hadn’t ever _really_ considered it before.”

His answer is on the heels of a sharp inhale. “Well, thank you for doing it now.”

Jensen taps at the side of Jared’s neck and moves around him with a smile. “C’mon. You should probably get to work soon.”

At the door, Jared hugs him again, hard and tight with their chests pressed together. Jared’s head dips down with his face on Jensen’s shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

When they pull back, Jensen’s gaze is gentle again and they share an awkward smile. “You’re gonna make me real uncomfortable one of these days.”

Jared chuckles as he opens the door and steps onto the porch. “Hopefully that’ll be never.”

*

There’s nothing that could surprise him more in the moment he returns home than his mother waiting in his living room. “I do have a key, you know,” she says sharply when he stares at her. “Stop looking at me like that, Jared. Come over here.”

He dumbly moves over and carefully hugs her, still worried about her presence here. “How are you?” he asks with a level voice.

She follows him into the kitchen where he deposits his keys and jacket. “I’d be better if my son had his head on straight.”

Jared’s mouth twists with her statement, but instead of replying he offers her something to drink. When they’re both seated at the table, he plays with the lip of his glass and cautiously looks to her. “So, what? Sandy call you?”

His mother replies short, but then starts rambling. “Yes. She’s worried about you. Thinks you’re going to quit your job. How in the heck are you going to support her if you do that? I don’t know what’s going on, but she’s so broken up and even _she_ couldn’t tell me what your problem is.”

He shifts in his chair so he can hold the glass with both hands and stare down into it. “My problem is everyone calling each other to snitch on me.”

“ _Jared_ ,” she reprimands. “Watch yourself. We just care.”

His mouth works and he even bites the inside of his mouth to not say it, but he does. “I just can’t do it anymore. Arrest people for doing nothing wrong.”

She blinks, breathes, and blinks again. But there’s no more emotion to her. “It’s the _law_ , Jared.”

Jared sits back, putting his arms out like a challenge. “Well, maybe I don’t think it should be.”

“Since when?”

He holds his breath for a moment and finally just says it. Just so he can stop hiding and accept what he’s been doing with Jensen all these weeks. “Since I saw it. And liked it.”

She swallows down another sip of juice and carefully sets her glass down. Silently, she rises and walks to the front door. But he can still hear her instruction. “You don’t tell another soul about it. You go back into work and pretend it never happened.”

Turning in his seat, he sees her gathering up her jacket and purse and staring back at him. “Remember that movie grandpa tried to show me?”

There’s a quick flinch to her steely position, but it’s gone just as quickly. She crosses her arms. “He shouldn’t have shown you that.”

He gets up and walks to her, holding a careful smile. Not to be smug, but because he truly feels what he’s telling her. “I saw it today. The whole thing. It was _incredible_. I have no idea why you hid it from us all these years. Or why anyone does.”

“You know why,” she grits back. 

There’s a power to his vision of the movie, and of all the Supernatural episodes he’s watched, not to mention the fact that he has Jensen’s friendship through it all. And it all fuels him so he can smile and talk about it the way he wants to. “Because you _told_ me it was wrong? There’s nothing wrong with experiencing someone else’s creativity.”

“Oh, Jared,” she sighs with feeling. “There is _so much_ wrong with that.”

He shakes his head to argue, but his smile is broad and bright. “I haven’t felt this great about myself in years, Mom. Years.”

Her breath is deep and loud as she reaches a hand out to his face and strokes gently. “Jared,” she murmurs. “Please, promise me you’ll stop. For you. For Sandy.”

Jared’s prepared to nod, to lie to her, but he wants to do anything but that. “It’s not in the house. Sandy’s fine.”

The other hand comes up to hold his face tight and close to her. “Jared, you listen to me. You get caught, you’ll go to jail. Sandy will not be fine. _I_ won’t be fine.”

It’s a sobering thought, for sure, but one that he’s just not worried about anymore. He’s high on the energy of media now, and nothing stops him from considering the next time he’ll visit Jensen and watch more.

*

At work, Jeff’s even more leery than he was before. Jared can feel him tracing his every move, and when they answer a call, he insists that Jared stay with him instead of Jake. Jeff’s eyes don’t leave him while they cart boxes out to the lawn to burn an entire DVD collection as well as a hundred or so music discs. 

Jared’s doing his best to remain controlled and in charge of his emotions so Jeff – or even Jake or Chad – doesn’t know a thing. But on the inside, it’s boiling just beneath the surface. The fire in his belly is bubbling just like the one at his feet because he doesn’t want to do this anymore. Can’t stand to destroy this family’s entertainment when he knows what it really does to people. It doesn’t damage their lives to escape for two hours within another world. It gives them things to talk about, to think about, ways to imagine how the world could work if given the chance – either emotionally or even with technology, like how he thinks about Star Wars and all the wonderful contraptions they had in their lives.

But he’s keeping it all in check and the dejection he feels at having to burn it all serves as a good cover to just look stoic. Jeff comments on it. “You don’t look as crazy as you have lately.”

His voice comes flat, “Crazy?” He drops more cases into the flames. 

“You’ve been going from sparkling like an idiot in the station to near-crying out in the field.” Jared catches Jeff’s not-so-casual glance. “Any reason for that?”

“I’m fine,” Jared bristles back. 

“Hmm,” his boss sounds out as he, too, puts more into the fire. They’re quiet for a bit as they watch the flames swallow up the media and wait for pieces to settle down before they can add more. “You’re like a shell now. Which might not be any better.”

He looks up and his eyes are near dead from the energy he’s using to not react too strongly. “How about you make up your mind on how you want me to act and I’ll do that.”

Jeff’s eyes scroll over his face and he turns to Jared. “I know what you’re doing. You better stop it before you get in too deep and we have to do something about it.”

Jared releases the last pieces in his hands, knowing that many of them don’t even make it into the fire. His breathing deepens, chest puffing up, and his eyes train on Jeff’s. “You go ahead and do what you think you have to,” he challenges but Jeff says nothing in return. “You don’t have any idea what’s really going on.”

“I’ve got enough of an idea to call it in.” This time, Jared remains quiet, his heart pumping feverishly and his fingers curling so tightly into his palms that the nails are piercing his skin. “You mind yourself or I just may have to.”

He looks down to the pile of media cases at his feet, the ones he tossed just moments ago. He sees a Supernatural case. _Season Three_ , he thinks to himself, knowing it just by the positioning of the brothers on the cover. From the clothes on Jensen’s body. He smirks a little then looks back up to his boss with another flat face and harsh chuckle. “You do what you’ve gotta do.” He looks behind them to Chad handing the mother and father off to the Propers while Jake keeps two children in order. With a rough swallow, Jared murmurs, “I quit,” and walks off the lawn.

*

It’s early for him to be home, but it’s still way too quiet in the house. He doesn’t expect Sandy to be up at this time, but there’s a pit in his stomach that there’s something wrong. And there is when he finds a note on the kitchen table that explains away the discomfort in their house. _I can’t be here until you’re straight. Please get help._

He tosses it back to the table, grabs a bottle of water, and goes to the bedroom. He collapses on the bed and takes rough, long sips from the bottle and everything crashes in his mind. He’s so overcome with how the media affects him that he’s quit his job. And Sandy quit him. He can’t exactly blame her. And truth be told, for a while now, he felt like their relationship just carried on and didn’t quite grow or move forward. It burns that he’s been abandoned, that she wouldn’t listen to him or consider what he was really experiencing. She’s been the most important woman in his life for the past four years. But he understands and forgives her in seconds.

The point of his job is harder to digest. Not just the fact that he quit with no back-up plan and no plans on income or how to go forward, but also that Jeff is obviously on to him. And in his anger of the evening and impulsive response to the challenge, he all but dared the man to show up on his doorstep. All of these worries and anxieties plague him when he falls asleep and he dreams of Sandy and their once-upon-a-time love. He dreams of her disappointment in finding out he’s watched media. He sees his mother and tears coursing her face. And he sees his co-workers barging through his home.

With a few hours of rest, Jared makes himself breakfast and eats it over the sink, staring out the kitchen window. He realizes, halfway through a piece of bacon with a nearly empty mug of coffee in his other hand, that the car parked across the way is in fact an unmarked Proper car with two agents he’s seen before. His heart races at the prospect of being followed, like a criminal. Which he is, but he doesn’t have anything in this house. He doesn’t own a single piece of media, so they can’t take him in. But the minute he decides to visit Jensen, it’s all over. 

Jared spends the next few days in the house, only leaving for a trip to the grocery store and for a few runs around the neighborhood to burn nervous energy that’s blazing inside him. He wants to see Jensen, wants to watch more movies, wants to just get out and not worry about that unmarked car following him everywhere – which it already has done. Jogging down the pavement at not-quite-five miles per hour and having a car slowly pace him is unnerving and he can’t imagine having to deal with it for much longer. 

It’s another five days when he cracks and finds Jensen’s phone number by making a few calls under the guise of still being a Media Agent. The nerves at hearing a ringing phone are more than he remembers having when he first showed up at Jensen’s house. He doesn’t know why this seems like it should be off-limits, but it sure feels that way.

Jensen’s voice comes through the line, rough and suspicious. “Hello?”

He swallows and breathes deep. “Hey, it’s me. It’s Jared.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Jensen says easily, as if he’s relieved Jared’s on the line. “Haven’t seen you for a little while.”

“I know.” He sighs, not even sure what news to start with. “I quit,” tumbles out first. 

“Wait, what?” he asks, shocked. “When? When did you quit?”

“Last week? I don’t even know the days anymore.”

“What happened? Do you have something else?”

“No, I uh,” and he pauses, not even sure what the sane reason is. Jared shakes his head, wishing he could do this in person, but is also thankful to keep his nerves from Jensen’s eyes. “I don’t know. It just happened. In the middle of a search. I couldn’t finish it.”

Jensen’s exhale is loud on the phone. “Jesus, Jared. You can’t just quit.”

His spits back a little angry, “You didn’t like me working there anymore than I did.”

“Yeah, but it was a _job_. Jesus. I can’t believe Sandy hasn’t killed you yet.”

Jared sighs again, resting his head in his hand. “She left.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Jensen replies on a sigh of his own. 

“Yeah, I know.”

“Jared … shit.” Jensen breathes quickly and speaks even faster, like he has to get it out before he rethinks it. “Hey, just come over here. I’ll help you out.”

He rubs fingers into his forehead, knowing how screwed he is at this point in his life and he did it all himself. “I can’t. They’ve got a car on my house.”

“Oh, fuck. Jared. Just. I don’t know, come here and hide out.”

Tears burn his eyes and his stomach turns again. He can’t help how pathetic his voice sounds. “Jensen, if I come there, they’re following me.” There’s a silence, and Jared’s sure Jensen gets it, but he says it anyway and so he can remind himself why he can’t even chance seeing Jensen. Even if it aches to know it. “They’ll get you and all your stuff.”

Jensen’s sigh is long and loud on the phone. But his voice comes out nearly amused, just to poke more at Jared. “Man, when you do it, you really go out in style.”

Jared chuckles emotionally, tears breaking down his face and he wipes them away. When more fall, he lets them go because no one will know they’re there. And he appreciates the way he feels in this moment with Jensen on the other line. “Yeah, no kidding.” 

“I wish I could help you,” Jensen says gently.

He chuckles again. “I wish you could, too.”

There’s grumbling and Jensen grits out, “Fuck, I did this.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah. I gave you that damned box. Lit the fuse, started the bomb, you know?”

Jared pauses, hating the guilt in Jensen’s voice. “No, man. You lit my spark. Aside from this right here, I haven’t felt better in _ages_.”

An angry laugh comes through. “Right, meanwhile your girl left you, you have no job, and you’re being followed.”

He cuts Jensen off and speaks seriously, pushing his emotion through the phone. “It’s worth it. I got you and your friendship. And everything else you gave me with those discs.”

“Shit, Jared,” Jensen whispers and Jared smiles at the sound of it. His chest burns for about the hundredth time since this whole thing started, but this time it feels like a good kind of punishment for the whole situation. And he can’t even rationalize it in his mind, but it’s there. This happiness that he has Jensen’s friendship and the memories of everything they’ve shared. 

Days later, he’s woken in the middle of the night by pounding at his front door. He’s grumbling his way through the hallways and is more angered to find Jeff, Jake, and Chad on the other side of it. “What the hell?” he grunts out, rubbing a hand over his head before he can figure out they’re in work blues. 

“You gonna make this easy?” Jeff asks, keeping strong eyes on Jared.

He sighs and pops the screen door open with a hard punch. He’s nervous as hell in the moment, but not as much as he would be if he actually had anything. Which he knows he doesn’t. Yes, he’s broken the law by having it in his house and in watching it with Jensen. But he never kept anything. The house is clear.

Jared starts a pot of coffee and tries to ignore Chad as he goes through the kitchen drawers and cabinets. But the clanking of doors and items being shoved around keep rattling him. “You’re wasting your time,” Jared yawns. “I don’t even know why you’re here.”

Chad eyes him with a scowl then looks through the pantry. “We’re here because there was an alarm.”

He finally pours himself a cup of coffee and looks over the lip of the mug. “That someone gossiped about, maybe? I don’t own anything.”

“We ever been wrong before?” Chad asks without looking away from his search.

“It’s always been wrong.”

He looks over his shoulder but doesn’t say anything, just goes back to looking for any paraphernalia. “You could just tell us where it is. Make this easy on everyone.”

Jared shoots back angrily, “I don’t have anything.”

Jeff appears in the doorway from the dining room, resting palms at the edges of the doorway. “You sure about that?”

He shoots his old boss an angry glare. “Positive.”

“Hmm,” he sounds with a grim smile. “We’ve been hearing about this for a while, Jared. You been watching lots of stuff.”

Jared leans back on the counter and decides to stay quiet, just sip his coffee and wait for them to come up empty and leave. 

“Hey! Down here!” Jake calls out and Jared’s gaze flips between Jeff and Chad and they both smile at him. 

“Looks like he found something.”

Jared’s following right behind them as they enter the bedroom and Jake’s hovering by Sandy’s dresser. He has a couple movie cases in his hand and a large grin on his face. The guy says, “Not much, but there’s this.”

He doesn’t recognize a single word on any of the boxes and he’s frantically looking between his three former co-workers and waiting for some joke to be turned out. “Those aren’t mine,” he says dumbly.

Chad’s eyebrow goes high. “You saying they’re Sandy’s?”

His breathing catches, not even sure what to say to save this situation. “No. She’s not even here. She left two weeks ago.”

Jeff steps forward. “Then they’re yours.” It’s not a question, and Jared doesn’t even think it’s a statement, more of a challenge. For Jared to bounce back and argue so they get the truth out of what he’s been up to. Jared’s seen it happen before, the way they interrogate and trap people. He’s not about to get into it here. Even with his heart beating hard against his ribcage and his breathing hitching every few seconds when he thinks about how badly this will likely end up going. “They yours?”

Jared stands tall and watches the three men watch him. “No.”

“You sure ‘bout that?”

“I’ve never owned anything.”

“Never?”

He shifts, but keeps his ground. “No.”

Jeff looks at the cases still in Jake’s hands. “Think maybe Sandy left them behind. Just to get at you?”

He knows they’re fishing for someone and that if they get Sandy involved he’ll surrender everything he knows to keep her safe. He really would, but he also thinks he can get around it. “She wouldn’t. She’s never seen a minute of media.”

“You know that as fact?”

Jared breathes deep, tiring already with the whole thing. “She told me. She wouldn’t lie.”

Jeff’s mouth quirks into a slow smile and he takes the cases from Jake’s hands. He looks at them, then up to Jared. “Funny you say that. She’s the one that told me you’ve been watching.” 

He swallows. It’s so hard and rough in his mouth. He has no words and it’s taking all his energy to not react. To keep his face still and his eyes focused on Jeff. Jared licks his lips and sighs. “I don’t know where those came from. I don’t own anything.”

“But you’ve been watching?”

“I don’t own anything,” Jared repeats with a hard edge, not wanting the conversation to go any further.

Jeff looks back at Chad and Jake, who continue to watch the conversation, arms crossed and settled against the dresser. He turns to Jared. “Where you been watching?”

Jared stares back, willing his mouth to remain closed so he doesn’t give a single detail away. He’s not about to turn Jensen in, it’s the very last thing on his plan to get out of this. He wouldn’t dream of mentioning his name to any of the men in this room. 

“Guys, why don’t you take these out to the van?” He hands the items over to Jake as they pass them, but them leaving isn’t making Jared feel any better. Jeff eyes Jared, sighs, and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his blues. He even leans back against Sandy’s dresser, like this is just as tough on him as it is for Jared. “You know, you work with us, this can be real easy for you.”

“I’m not saying anything. Except those aren’t mine.”

“They Sandy’s?”

Jared shakes his head. Jeff’s demeanor softens a bit, but still. This isn’t exactly the situation he wants to be in right here. “There’s no reason she’d own anything.”

The voice comes easily. “Then it’s yours.”

“Hell, no!” he harps back. “How many times’ve I got to say neither of us own anything.”

Jeff stands up to Jared and he huffs out, “How many times do I have to ask about you watching media?”

“What do you want?” Jared grits out.

“Tell me where you’re watching it,” Jeff grits right back.

“What _else_ do you want?”

Jeff laughs and shakes his head. “Alright, kid. Why don’t you get your stuff? You’re coming with us.”

His inhale is sharp and almost hurts. This isn’t where he thought it’d go; this isn’t what he’s prepared to handle right now. He knows the minute he gets to the station he’s done for. There’s no turning back, there’s no way to get out. Jared’s guilty the second he goes with them. His mind flips and his stomach rights itself in a second, making everything spin and he’s lightheaded. Jared barely manages to say, “Let me get dressed.”

His old boss eyes him carefully, but finally nods and leaves the room.

Jared throws on jeans, a clean tee, and a hoodie. He’s pushing shoes on his feet and when he stands, it all crashes on him and his heart beats wildly, thumping against his chest and hard enough he hears it in his ears. He looks out the bedroom window to see the work van with Jeff, Chad, and Jake standing in front of it. It freaks him out again, but he calms for a second when he notes the unmarked car is gone. There’s nothing watching him anymore and it comforts him for just a second. Long enough for him to chance it and dash through the hallway, out the back door, through the yard, and out into the alleyway. He’s running so hard, pounding feet to the pavement, oxygen burning through his throat as he’s breathing so incredibly hard.


	5. Part Four

He’s rounding corners and crossing streets in the dead of night, thankful for the cover of darkness and for his long legs to take him where he needs to go. When he actually can get out to run for exercise, he takes a good six, seven miles at an easy pace. But here, he’s sprinting everywhere and even though it’s a shorter distance, it feels longer. All the fear of being followed, which he isn’t he notes whenever he tosses a glance behind him, is making this trip so much longer than he had anticipated. But the adrenaline pushes him to keep going when the muscles ache and his chest heaves. He just has to. 

Jared doesn’t chance the front door because he’s afraid Jeff might finally catch up to him and spot him there. Instead, he runs down the gangway and knocks on a few windows as he passes, finally anxious with a fist at the back door. It’s constant but not all too loud to draw attention of neighbors. It feels like ages before there’s any sign, but soon enough a light pops up inside the house and he yanks the screen door open, knocking soundly on the wood door. It opens seconds later and Jensen’s bleary eyed and wiping a hand over his head. “What the fuck?”

He looks around to make sure no one sees them, and he pushes his way into the house, slamming the door and locking it. “I am so screwed,” he says simply in between heavy breaths. 

Jensen watches Jared flip all the lights back down and he’s yanking the drapes closed on the windows in the kitchen. Following, he pulls on Jared’s arm for his attention. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Jared’s hands wrap around Jensen’s biceps and he’s leaning in close, still just as frantic. He had hoped being some place that wasn’t his home, away from Jeff and the van, he would calm down and feel better. But it’s still freaking him out. “They were at my house. They planted something.”

His eyes drop and the eyebrows crease down. “What? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I don’t _own_ anything. I brought everything back here. Besides, it was stuff I’d never even heard of.” Jared’s hands go up to his face and he’s covering himself, trying to hold everything in. “Damnit!”

“Okay, okay,” Jensen’s saying immediately and pulling on his arms and away from the windows. “Downstairs. We’ll go downstairs.” Jared doesn’t respond, but he lets Jensen lead him to the office and down through the hatch. Jensen locks it from the inside and keeps most of the lights off, just in case anyone gets in and sees cracks of light through the footboards. The room is lit by a lamp next to the couch and Jared’s sitting, cradling his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. Jensen stands before him, leaning forward with hands going to his shoulders. “Hey, c’mon. Just calm down. You’re safe here. Alright?”

“No, no. Damnit,” Jared mutters, still covering his face. “I shouldn’t have come here. If they follow … if they find this, here.”

“Hey,” Jensen says firmly as he crouches before Jared and holds his face to look at him. “You came to the right place. Okay? They won’t find you here. They don’t even know we know each other.”

Jared frowns, his eyes watering. “Sandy. She told them. And she knows I’ve been coming here.”

Jensen’s own breathing catches and his eyes quickly flicker between Jared’s. He stands and turns away, hands balling into fists. “Jesus, Jared,” he grits out.

“I know, I know,” Jared mutters pathetically, hands to his face again.

In one movement, Jensen unearths the nearby cabinet’s surface, swiping bookends and compact discs across the room. “Fuck!” 

Jared’s head picks up and he’s staring, frozen by the outburst. He’s never seen this kind of emotion from Jensen – not in person.

He throws hands out into the air but won’t look at him. The anger in his voice and the hard lines of his tense shoulders are enough to hurt Jared. “They’ll come here! They’ll come here and find this!”

Fingers press into Jared’s forehead, more tears build in his eyes and he can’t say a word. He knows. He so knows this and has no excuse for it. There’s nothing to make it better. 

“I can’t believe this.” Jensen shoves a knee against the side of the cabinet and it rocks but falls back into place. His breathing is heavy and he’s still fuming, but when Jared still won’t respond, he turns and watches him. The breathing is loud and hard, but his voice steadies a bit. “How much does she know?”

He shrugs and more tears break loose. “I didn’t tell her how we met. I said you were a Proper.”

“She know my name?”

“Just your first name.”

He scoffs. “Kind of a unique one, huh?” 

Jared tips his head back into his hands and the emotion is heard in the way his voice breaks. “Oh, fuck. I am so screwed.” He coughs through a sob, swallowing most of the sound, but it still echoes in the space.

With Jared’s freak out, something settles in Jensen’s chest and he sobers from being worried about himself for the moment. He’s suddenly more concerned with the guy in front of him panicking so much. He leans forward, hands settling at his neck to force him closer. “Hey, look at me. You’re gonna be fine. Okay? Just … just don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

His eyes watch Jensen’s and they’re so close and well-meaning, and Jared feels the comfort in Jensen’s confidence. He chuckles harshly. “That or you’re an even better actor than I thought.”

Jensen tips his forehead against Jared’s. “Maybe a little of both. Just trust me?”

It doesn’t matter how soothing Jensen’s voice gets, or what he says, because Jared still can’t accept he’s in this situation. Can’t accept Sandy told Jeff about it and he’s unnerved all over. His eyes are wet again and his lips crumble. “I can’t believe this. Jesus.”

“Hey, hey,” Jensen soothes, pushing himself closer, tighter into Jared’s space. His hands grasp the sides of Jared’s head and hold him steady. “I’ve trusted you this long. Let you in my house, in my life, in _here_. Give me the chance, okay? Trust me.”

Jared looks into Jensen’s eyes and sees the emotion and truth in there, how badly the guy wants to help him and be trusted right in this room. Something snaps and Jared’s eyes are tired and he’s still anxious, but then he’s leaning in closer and mumbling, “I do. I trust you.”

Jensen’s hand swipes down with care. “Okay,” he smiles back. His lips part like he’s going to say more, but then he’s closing the space between them with a comforting kiss, soft and plump lips to Jared’s, which lightly press back. Jensen’s open for a gentle sucking kiss and there’s heavy breathing between the two of them until Jared’s energy amps up and he grabs hold of Jensen’s head, tilting it and sucking right back. They both get anxious, the fear of the situation driving them, hands grabbing tight to the other’s face and forcing the kiss to be rougher than either really intends. 

There are tongues swiping messily between their mouths and Jared’s moving back, pulling Jensen with him. He straddles Jared’s lap and uses the leverage to kiss down and hard into Jared’s mouth, holding his head still with fingers dragging at Jared’s hair. Jared’s hands swipe down Jensen’s torso, settle at his hips for a few quick moments, then finally grope his back, pulling him in tighter. And when he feels the chest against his own, gets the sensation of Jensen settling in close, and his mind finally rationalizes that he’s kissing Jensen, a fire burns in his belly and it rises. Up through his chest, into his throat, and then he’s moaning and making little _hmm_ noises that Jensen swallows right up. 

His mind works overtime through the whole thing, fighting against him. The fact that it’s Jensen, a man, crumbles in theory when he considers that it’s _Jensen_ , and with all that they’ve shared these last few months, this doesn’t seem wrong. Jared’s not sure that it’s _right_ , but in the moment, it’s a good thing and he needs it. The raw emotion and the power of Jensen’s strength, the weight of his body anchoring Jared, the warmth making him feel safe. It’s enough that he’s fueled further with desire and brings his hands back to Jensen’s hips to push himself up to Jensen. To feel that drag of hard body against his own, feel it rub against him as he gets hard. Jensen’s body reacts in kind, pushing down onto Jared and feeling his bulge through the jeans and against his own lounge pants. But then he’s slowing down, holding Jared’s face more carefully, and pulling back. “Jared,” he whispers as Jared leans back in to nip at his mouth. “Hey, hang on,” he cuts in, moving far enough back that they can easily see each other’s faces. Jared pulls once more on Jensen’s waist, dragging him closer. “Fuck,” Jensen murmurs when his own hard-on is caught against Jared’s stomach, pressure that won’t relent because Jared won’t let him move. His voice is rough and tight. “You even know what you’re doing?”

Jared’s drunk in this moment, off the heat between them and the thought that he’s been building this thing with Jensen for weeks and weeks, just turning himself over to the guy and catching all these crazy emotions with everything he’s watched. It’s strange here, and different, but he’s crackling with energy at the mixture of sensations he’s had all night – anxiety and fear from Jeff and his old co-workers, warmth and trust with Jensen, and now this, which he can’t even put a name to. His voice comes low and breaks, “Honestly, no.”

Jensen sighs and starts to move away, but Jared clamps down on him tight again, bringing him close. “Jared, you don’t even …”

He cuts in, pushing his mouth up to Jensen’s. “I want to be here. Right _here_.”

Another sigh, but Jensen is settling back down to Jared. “You don’t even know,” he murmurs, running a hand over Jared’s hair. 

Jared’s hands grope his back again and he smiles gently, lightheaded with this moment and the softness of Jensen’s voice. “ _You_ don’t know. I’ve been obsessed with you in that damned show. Since the beginning.”

“What about San – ” And Jensen stops, sucking his lips back into his mouth to keep from saying more.

He reaches forward for a kiss, just because he wants it and he can take it. Then he says against Jensen’s mouth, “These movies, this place … _you_. Makes me feel alive. You have no idea.”

Jensen’s breathing is heavy and he nudges his nose next to Jared’s with his head solid against Jared. He shifts in the lap a little, but Jared’s hands are solid to keep him there. “I’m probably crushing you,” he mumbles lamely.

Jared’s mouth moves against Jensen’s cheek. “Look at me, I’m a monster. You’re not a problem.”

He softly laughs, but it sounds more like a sigh, and he’s still a little anxious in the moment. “You sure?”

When Jared can’t immediately answer, they both pull back and eye each other. It’s a long moment while they each hold warm looks and won’t move. Jared finally says, “I don’t have a job. Sandy left me over this stuff. My mom will likely disown me. And I’m on the run from the Propers. I’m not sure of anything right now.”

“Yeah, see,” Jensen mumbles as he shifts away.

Jared pulls him back again. “But you were the first place I knew to run to.” Jensen’s nod is small and slow, but Jared sees it. “That’s something.”

Jensen’s mouth breaks a small smile and he leans back in. “Alright, less talking, okay?” 

Jared nods and he reaches forward to kiss him again. 

*

“You still talk to your parents?” Jared quietly asks as he stares at his hand flexing against Jensen’s in the air between them. 

Jensen’s head lolls over to look at him. His fingers bend between Jared’s and he looks back up at the ceiling. “Yeah. They retired and moved a few years ago, so I don’t see them much. But we call.”

“Where do they live now?”

“Austin.”

“Texas?” Jared asks, sounding interested.

Jensen smirks, “Is there another Austin?”

He smiles back, but then inhales sharply when he thinks about his grandparents. “My mom’s family came from San Antonio.”

“What about your dad? You’ve never mentioned him.”

Jared thinks about it, how he hasn’t said a word about the man since his death. Not even with his mother, who seemed to forget that part of her life ever existed. Then it hits him how this very moment in his life was part of an elaborate series of events that started with the man’s death. His voice struggles with the words. “He died … when I was younger. High school.”

Jensen’s hand squeezes at Jared’s and he says softly, “I’m sorry. What happened?”

He shakes his head, thinking more. He scoffs. “I don’t even know. My mom never said much about it.” There’s a long pause before Jared can manage his words. “I joined the agents when he died. To help her out. She always tells me he’d be proud of me for doing it, but I don’t think he would.”

“You get along with him?”

“As much as we could. He worked a lot.” Jared smiles suddenly. “I remember he used to argue with her over media. He didn’t think it was so bad.” His smile sets gently as does his voice. “I liked hearing someone stand up to her.” Jensen chuckles and Jared glances over. He feels light from the memories of his father defending movies. “They like what you do? Your parents?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I used to have them over to watch, just so they wouldn’t get caught with it. But now they buy everything and distribute it in their neighborhood. It’s like a fan club over there.” Jared looks over with confusion and Jensen smiles back. “Texas isn’t really as strict, especially their county. They have agents and everything, but they usually just go after the big ones. Like distributors or underground movie houses.”

Jared nods and sighs, liking the idea of leaving families alone. “Why don’t you live there? Where you aren’t such a high priority?”

He shrugs. “I’ve lived here for a long while now because there were more movies in this area a couple years ago. No matter where I go, I’d still build that basement. Why do it again?”

Shifting slightly, Jared watches him, thinking about all the concessions Jensen has to make so he can be happy with his job and what it’s like to have a parent’s support. He wonders what it would’ve been like to grow up that way, instead of having his mother’s control. “They’re not afraid for you? To be found out?”

Another shrug and Jensen easily responds, “I’m sure somehow, but they’ve never really said. Remember, they think art and media is a good thing.”

With a slightly harsh chuckle, Jared releases Jensen’s hand and scrubs his palms over his face. “The more you say, the more screwed up I feel.”

Jensen shifts in the bed, rising up on an elbow and looking down on Jared. He pulls at one of his wrists so he can see his face, so Jared can see his. “Hey, you’re not screwed up. You ask anyone else out there and I’m the weird one. And you lived what you were told. It’s not like you had the choice.”

Jared continues staring at the creamy ceiling, almost transporting himself to his childhood. “My grandpa used to tell me about all his favorite TV shows. He’d make them sound so fascinating that I’d always ask him about them, even when he’d already told me. I think I heard Gilligan’s Island a thousand times.” He smirks when he spots Jensen smiling down on him. Their fingers curl around each other again and he warms from within, his stomach bubbling up with the feeling. “I loved him for it. He made our visits so special and I was always begging my mom to go visit him. But she’d always rush me away from him and tell me that it was wrong. From day one, I was told media was so bad for me. Even when he made it so fun.”

“You don’t talk much about him.” Jared looks over and Jensen gives him a comforting smile. “Just that he showed you Star Wars. You don’t see him because of your mom?”

He swallows and looks up, nearly reliving the day his grandfather was buried and how crushed he felt in that moment. His voice is quiet. “He died when I was twelve. Last time I really thought about media.” Jared sighs and goes on. “Either way, she wouldn’t let me go by him because he’d try to show me stuff. He’d have to come by us, but she still thought he was poisoning my mind or something.”

“I think I did that well enough.”

He smirks at Jensen and feels comfort in this moment. In Jensen’s bed, so close to him, physically and emotionally. And while, yes, seeking out Jensen months ago was the first step to this downfall, Jared’s grateful for it. “God,” he sighs with a bit of humor. “My mom would _hate_ you if she knew what you did to me.”

Jensen laughs, bats his chest, and rises to get dressed. “Some coffee?”

He stretches and feels muscles stretching with a burn and joints popping together. Surprisingly, it’s a good kind of ache – tells him he’s still feeling things in his life, and he all but forgets his situation. He just smiles at Jensen and nods while turning over to grab his clothes off the floor when Jensen heads to the kitchen. Alone in the room, Jared finally checks his phone and finds quite a few missed calls and text messages. Chad and Jeff are the most common with a combination of pleas and threats –to talk to them, turn himself in, _make it easier on yourself, on your family_ , they say. His mother is frantic, complaining that the Propers had been at her house asking about him and why he’s not answering his phone, _Where in Sam’s Hell are you? Stop hiding and tell me what trouble you’ve gotten into_.

Jared can make due with ignoring them, but it’s Sandy’s soft, worried voice that gets to him. “My word, Jared. I don’t even know what’s going on. Jeff keeps coming to my mom’s and they’re insisting we’re keeping you. That we know where you are. _What_ is going on? Please call me. Tell me you’re okay.”

He stares at the phone, unable to properly identify his feelings. She sounds nervous and truly scared for him, but he’s burnt with the knowledge that she called Jeff. That her phone call turned this into a witch hunt and now he’s holed up in Jensen’s house with no chance to leave until things are safe – and who on earth knows when that will be? If it ever will be? He calls her, expecting her to be at work and figuring to leave a voicemail. 

She _is_ at work, but she answers anyway. “Oh, Jesus, hang on,” she murmurs quietly. Seconds later she’s back and he can tell there’s less noise and an echo on her end; she’s hiding in a storage closet to talk to him. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he mumbles. 

Sandy rushes on, “Where are you at? Jesus, Jeff keeps calling and asking about you. We’re all worried.”

He chuckles harshly and shakes his head while staring down at his bare feet on Jensen’s hardwood floor. The boards feel cool to his skin and he pats his toes down on it, just to give himself something to look at while he does this with her. He takes a heavy breath to steady himself, but still sounds angry. “You’re worried? So worried you snitched.”

“What? No. I asked him to talk to you. I was scared for you, for what you were doing.”

“Sandy,” he huffs. “His job is to arrest people for media. You _turned_ me in.”

“No, no,” she murmurs back. “He’s your friend. I just asked him to help you.”

It hits him that she truly thought she was helping, and it makes his anger lessen and melt into guilt that feels heavy in the pit of his stomach. Because in the end, he did this to himself. His behavior scared her, she went to who she thought could help, and now here he is. Wanted. “You told him I watched media. He’s an agent. What did you think he’d do?”

Her voice rises with emotion. “No, I was just trying … Gosh, I thought he would just _talk_ to you about it. Not anything more.”

Jared huffs back, “Well, he did more.”

“Jared, please. Where are you? The Propers have been at my mom’s three times to check everything. She’s crying nonstop that they’re going to take us in. I went to the house and everything’s tore up.”

He sighs and rubs a hand over his eyes then down his face. “They planted movies at the house. I had to leave.”

“Who did?”

“Jake? Jeff? I don’t know, but they came to search and found discs in your dresser.”

There’s a long pause and she whispers, “In _mine_?”

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. Hearing it affect her isn’t making this any easier. “Yeah. I had never even heard of the movies. They weren’t mine.”

“Oh, Jared,” she wonders. “What’re you going to do about it?”

His voice rises with anger and anxiety, because he really has no clue. “What can I do? They’re going to take me in for sure now. Just for running.”

“Why did you even run away? It makes you look guilty.”

“They were going to take me in,” he stresses. “The minute they said that, I was guilty. The second they even _came to the house_ they thought I was guilty.” They’re both quiet as the statements settle in their minds. He can hear her deep breathing and startled noises as she tries to work out a response. Jared finally says, “I am guilty of watching it. But I never owned anything.”

Sandy sobers and asks firmly, “Jared, where are you? You need to go to someone for help.”

It’s in this moment that Jensen reappears in the doorway, hesitantly watching Jared’s end of the conversation. He mouths _you okay?_ and Jared nods. He says into the phone. “I did go somewhere.”

“What about a lawyer? Or that Proper friend of yours, Jensen? Can _anyone_ get you out of this?”

He gently smiles at the name, and then up at Jensen. “I don’t know about that. But I’m fine.”

“Where are you? Let me come help you.”

Jared’s shocked by the sincerity in Sandy’s voice, and right there guilt scours his body as he considers that he’s in Jensen’s house, in this safe haven of a home. And in the early morning hours, they crossed lines and Jared fell into Jensen’s life with full trust and confidence. Even with Sandy moving out, her note gave hope that she’d come back. He feels like he’s crossed her. But he thinks about that call to Jeff and how she betrayed him. It still aches to know he’s essentially severed their relationship by being with Jensen, but he feels justified somehow. 

“Jared, please,” Sandy pleads quietly. “You don’t have to do this alone. Please. Come to my mom’s, we’ll help you.”

He looks at Jensen, holds his face with his stare and he feels safe right here. “I can’t do that.” She continues worrying, pleading, and offering so many options to help. She’ll meet him somewhere quiet, he can meet her at work, she’ll come to him, wherever he is. He finally interrupts firmly, “Sandy, no. I’m fine. Just … Jesus,” he huffs, feeling the bitterness build back up. He stares back at his feet, shaking his head. “You … your call got me in this. You have to understand why I can’t let you help me.”

“It was one phone call,” she murmurs with pain in her voice.

As much as he hates saying it, the words tumble out easily. “It was the wrong call.”

“I didn’t mean … I didn’t think it – ”

Jared cuts her off, “I know you didn’t. But you did. Just let me figure this out on my own.”

“Do you have any plan?”

He looks up to Jensen, but the doorway is empty and his heart beats irregularly. His voice gets sharp, “Just don’t worry about it anymore. I have to go.” Hanging up, he makes his way to the kitchen where Jensen is standing before the coffee maker and drinking a cup. Jared plants palms into the counter so he can lean beside Jensen. 

“Everything okay?” Jensen asks quietly and steady.

His voice is tired, but it also sounds nonchalant. “She thought it would help. To call my boss.”

Jensen murmurs at his mug, “Doesn’t look like it helped.”

He flips an eyebrow and frowns. “I know. Can I have a cup?” 

Silently, Jensen grabs one from the cupboard and pours. He passes it with an odd look. “You didn’t tell her you were here, right?” Jared shoots him a quick look and drinks from the mug while staring back over the rim. “What if she makes another call … to _help_?”

Jared can hear the silent quotes around that word and it stings. He knows that it’s Sandy’s fault, but he’s not sure he wants to know that Jensen sees it that way, too. “It was a mistake.”

“She could make another one.”

“She won’t.”

Jensen takes a steadying breath and looks into his near-empty mug. “You sure?”

His voice is nervous, on the edge, because he’s feeling this way under Jensen’s inquiries. “I didn’t tell her I was here.”

“Shit,” he whispers and finishes off his coffee and puts the cup on the counter. Jensen stares down on it and says quietly, “I’m sorry. I just … it’s not just you right now. It’s me, too, you know?” He looks back up to Jared with a worried glance. “They find you here and we’re both in trouble.”

Jared nods, his eyes dropping low with pain. “Yeah. Right.” One quick breath and he looks back to Jensen. “I’m sorry. I just … I forgot that.” A hand comes up to squeeze at Jensen’s shoulder then it skates down his arm. “I’m sorry. I should leave,” and he turns to the bedroom. 

Jensen finds him gathering his hoodie, socks, and shoes, pulling everything back on quickly and silently. He asks quietly, “Where’re you gonna go?”

His eyes stay down as he yanks a shoe on. “I don’t know. Maybe my mom’s.”

“She’ll turn you in.”

He stops with the other shoe in his hand and angrily taps his foot to the ground. “Can you even imagine?” he grumbles. “Turning in your own kid?”

Jensen moves forward, grabbing Jared’s shoe and tossing it onto the bed. “I don’t want you to leave.” His hands ease at Jared’s shoulders with comfort. “I just want to be smart about what we’re doing here.” Jared sadly glances up, eyes already wet. “Let’s just be aware of the situation, yeah?” 

He nods and mumbles, “Yeah. Alright.”

Jensen’s hands hold Jared’s face and he continues gently. “You ran and they’re coming after you. But they come here? I’ve got a basement big enough to send me away for the rest of my life. That’s the facts.”

Jared’s head tips down, chin to his chest with hair falling into his face. It hides the tears tracking his cheeks and the way his breathing gets hard, pushing his chest out. Jensen sits beside him, pulling an arm around his shoulders and bringing him close. Jared wraps his arms around him and tries to steady his breathing. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.”

He shifts so they can look at each other and asks gently, with a smile, “Why do you have to keep crying and saying that?” 

Jared can just barely detect the emotion under Jensen’s voice, like he’s trying really hard to make things light, like he’s acting right here. And Jared wonders how much of Jensen’s strength in the last twelve hours has been real or created to comfort Jared. But he tells himself it shouldn’t matter, because it absolutely has helped. “I’d say I’m sorry for that, but I get the feeling that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear again.” Jensen smirks at the weak tone to Jared’s words, sounding so pathetic. The voice gets a little stronger. “I just … I don’t know. It feels harder. In the day now? I don’t know why.”

Jensen nods, because it’s been more than obvious that Jared has been more anxious since the sun came up, since they’ve been up on the main floor. “Let’s watch something downstairs. Just hole down there and forget about it for a while.”

“Yeah?”

The corner of his mouth picks up. “That’s the beauty of the movies. They make you forget about your own problems.”

*

They settle in the couch, Jared escaping in the world of the Star Wars trilogy as Jensen sets them up to finish up the three original movies. Jensen smarts, “These are the only ones that count. You’re not missing anything with the other three.”

“What’re those ones about?”

Jensen pushes himself deeper into the cushions and closer to Jared. “How Darth Vader became Darth Vader.”

His voice goes soft, but it’s also full of wonder. “Really? Why can’t we watch those? Why wouldn’t we watch those first?”

“Because they suck,” he answers simply. “Trust me on that.”

Jared grumbles and drops jokes later in the evening that he bets the original three would seem better if he knew the background story. Jensen mostly ignores him and shows him a few episodes from TV comedies that he grew up on. Cheers, Cosby Show, and The Simpsons. Jared howls his laughter at so much when he’s not watching Jensen laugh. He realizes how the energy fills the room with warmth. Can’t remember ever feeling this giddy and comfortable, and he loves it. He feels lightheaded, in a good way, and lets the excitement carry them both into the wee hours of the next morning as they marathon sitcom after sitcom. 

When his eyes are droopy and his laughter has withered into tiny snorts, Jensen shuts everything down and leads them back up to the bedroom. There, they lean into each other, nuzzling sleepily before Jared leans down and kisses Jensen’s forehead. “Thank you so much,” he murmurs.

Jensen holds his jaw, positions it so he can reach up and press against Jared’s mouth. “No, you.”

He tips his forehead to Jensen’s. “You’re keeping me safe. What did I ever do?”

They’re kissing again and Jensen nudges Jared to his back. He lifts up to his elbows to watch him with careful eyes. He speaks softly and steady. “You make it worth it.”

Jared’s hands settle at Jensen’s back. “Harboring a fugitive?”

“No,” he chuckles. “Having the movies, experiencing them.”

“You had all that anyway.”

With a deep breath, Jensen answers honestly. “They mean more when you can share them. Watching you have these for the first time is just as good as when I first saw them.” Jared’s quiet, can’t even form a proper response. He just stares back. “Some of them, they get better each time you watch. You haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet,” he smirks.

Jared nods and feels everything build in his chest like he can’t breathe. “I can’t wait to do that.”

*

In the afternoon, Jensen makes sandwiches and they watch more. Jared can’t manage to overdose on it, just keeps piling it all into his brain, all these emotions. The laughter and the tears have equal impacts within and he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s all fresh and sharp and he asks for more. It carries on for hours, Jared never tiring for a second, but Jensen asks for reprieve, a short breather to stretch their legs and see a bit of daylight before it’s gone for the day. 

They settle for a bit in the kitchen, grabbing snacks and beer, talking more about themselves, about their pasts and absolutely avoiding the future. The questions of what comes next, what Jared’s plans are to get out of this because they both know he can’t stay there forever, are never heard. But Jared’s still anxious with it. He can’t wash the same outfit constantly, never leaving the house for fresh items because they fear he’ll be spotted. There will come a time soon enough that he’ll need to breathe clean air, feel the sun on his face. 

In the bathroom, he splashes water and examines his face. He feels different on the inside, for sure. But it’s the same tan face staring right back. Nothing’s changed outside; he’s still Jared. Inside, however, everything is new, reborn in this new world he’s found with Jensen. And he’s suddenly smiling, and that’s new. His cheeks are tight with the movement and that’s new. 

The doorbell sounds and he immediately steps to the hallway, hiding just behind the kitchen wall and listening to Jensen at the door. He can’t make out much, randomly hears Jensen saying, “No, I’m sorry. Don’t know.” Jared hears the door shut and he turns into the kitchen, catching a glance down the hallway to see Jensen walking towards him and shrugging. “Wrong house.”

The bell goes again and Jared’s eyes pop, his mouth twists. “That ain’t a wrong house.”

Jensen frowns and stops in his place. It rings once more, echoing in the space between them with a dark tone. He takes a deep, visible breath and steels his shoulders. “Go downstairs.”

“Jensen,” he hushes to stop him, but Jensen’s already moving back to the door. It’s then that Jared hears Jeff’s voice. 

“You mind if we come in?”

Jared tucks himself back behind the wall, flat against it and eyes closing in prayer. 

“You mind my knowing what the problem is?” Jensen asks.

“We’ve had reports of criminal activity in the area. Just want to discuss your neighbors.”

He turns quickly, rushing to the office and prepared to hide down the hatch. But he hears the voices clearer and closer. He sneaks a peak down the hallway and realizes Jensen’s let them into the house. His heart is wild, his lungs unable to handle air. Of course he’s let them in. He can’t fight it without drawing more attention, but Jared can’t concentrate on that. He’s trying to focus on the best plan of action. The smartest thing to do right now. But he’s absolutely clueless to it.

“Your name’s Jensen, right?” Jeff’s saying and Jensen’s answering that it is. “You know a Jared Padalecki?”

His mind is screaming so many different things. The fact that they found him, that the hatch is open, that they’re both going to jail. It’s racing with so many ideas, but none of them seem to be the right one. Walk out to the front room, give himself up. Create a fuss so Jeff is distracted enough that Jensen can escape. Lock himself downstairs. He can’t find anything that’s one hundred percent foolproof, and that fact makes him panic, tears appearing in seconds. 

Jared rushes back to the office, closing the hatch, locking it down with the nearby set of keys. He nudges a nearby bookcase over, the edge blocking the crack in the floorboards. He pulls the area rug a few inches to cover the lock. Seconds later, he’s popping a window open, using the desk for leverage, and hauling himself outside. The setting sun does nothing for him, except point the direction he wants to run, and he’s off.

*

He’s run clear across town, collapsing in the forest that edges itself between the neighboring city. He pulls out his cell phone, contemplates calling Jensen, explaining that he ran to protect him. That Jensen will be safe now, as long as they don’t find the basement. He can forget Jared, he can go back to his life and carry on because Jared complicates it. But the notion burns ugly in his stomach. All the emotions he’s built up for Jensen, the respect, the trust, the love … he can’t leave any of them behind, doesn’t want to. But the love he holds for the man reminds him of the need to shield him from further consequences. Jared’s already set Jensen too close to the law in hiding there. He had to leave.

Beneath the tire of his running, anxiety of his emotions, and the crash of his adrenaline, he blacks out in the brush. 

*

The sun streams between the trees, warming Jared’s face, and he finally wakes. It takes a few seconds to remember what happened and why, and he’s tearing up instantly. Immediately, he calls Jensen’s home but gets no answer. He waits ten minutes and tries again. And five minutes later. Still no one will pick up. 

He dials Sandy, against his better judgment but in line with his fear. He rushes over her worried voice, “Sandy, what’s going on? What’s happened?”

“Jared! Where are you! My … oh, Jared,” she rambles on. 

There is no easy way to go about this while keeping himself and Jensen out of as much trouble as possible. His mind reels with the possible questions and statements to stay clean and he finally cuts her off. “I heard something happened to Jensen. What happened?”

“They went looking for you. I heard there was nothing there.”

“Why did they go there?” he snaps.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t tell Jeff about him … I just …”

His voice hardens even more. “Then how’d they know, Sandy?”

“Chad told them.”

“How in the hell would he know?!”

“Sophia,” she answers miserably, and continues on like she’s found her part in the whole thing again. “I’d mentioned him a few times to Sophia. Just that you were spending time there. She told Chad.”

“Jesus Christ, Sandy!” he yells. “You’re digging my grave!”

Sandy whimpers, obviously scared of his anger. “I didn’t mean to. I am so sorry, you have no idea.”

“ _You_ have no idea. This whole mess, Jesus. I don’t even know … I can’t get out of this. And _Jensen_ now.”

“But if he didn’t do anything, they’ll let him go, right?”

That room flashes in his mind, the rows and rows of movie cases. The cabinet full of compact discs. All the TV work Jensen’s done. Jensen wouldn’t see the light of day.

She asks carefully, “Jared? Were you watching with him? Is that it?”

His breathing finally steadies, as does his tone. “Sandy, if you don’t mind, I’d rather you answer the questions. You don’t seem to be helping me when I tell you anything.”

“Jared, I’m _sorry_ ,” she nearly wails. “I haven’t meant to do any of this. I was just trying to help you.”

“Well, you didn’t then. But try to now, okay?” He sighs and hears her _mmhmm_ whimper. “Okay. They took Jensen in, right?”

“Yeah, they did.”

“They take anything from his house?”

“I don’t know. Sophia said that they’re keeping him, waiting for you.”

“Jesus,” Jared whispers, feeling a sharp dagger in his heart. He can’t manage to think straight right here, can’t work his mouth to ask any more of her. He shuts the phone and hunches over his bent knees, cradling them and rocking as he cries.

*

It’s taken him at least twenty-four hours for this decision. He’s watched the sun set then rise and set again. The darkness echoed the pit inside him, the emptiness he felt in being stuck in the forest while Jensen was being held in detention. 

His entrance is willingly, as in he’s decided to be at the station, but it’s grudgingly. His hand’s been forced to this, to keep Jensen safe. The agent at the front counter reacts immediately, like he knows Jared has been Suspect One this entire time, and he’s reaching for the phone, calling Jeff down. Jared swallows thickly, barely managing to keep his heart and breathing in check. The second Jeff rounds the corner, with Jake a step behind him, moisture builds and his hands shake. He wipes his palms on his forest-dusted jeans and clears his throat. “You’ve got me. Let him go.”

Jeff’s face is steady, but surprisingly, the eyes are soft. As if he realizes the way Jared feels here, how important his plea is. He reaches an arm out and nods. “Come with us.”

The surprise isn’t in the two men walking alongside him as if to keep him from running again. It’s in going to the station room, instead of the Propers Area. Jeff insists Jared settle at his old cot and offers him a mug of coffee. He doesn’t want to take it, but his mouth is parched from the hours spent thirsty and starving in the forest. Quietly, he thanks him and sips, waiting for Jeff to say something. 

“You okay?”

Jared chances a look at him and mumbles, “Yeah.”

“Looks like you need a clean-up. Some fresh clothes?”

“I’m fine.”

Jeff makes a _hmm_ sound and just watches him drink.

Jared is through the whole cup and stares down to the bottom while asking quietly, “So what happens?”

The cot in front of him squeaks as Jeff sits and rests his elbows to his knees. He leans forward, closing the space between them. “You want good news or bad news?”

Jared grumbles, “I want you to stop screwing around.” He looks up to Jeff’s surprised glare. “This isn’t a joke.”

The voice comes gruff and pushy. “No, son, it ain’t. You ran. You were on the run for four days.”

“Not much of a choice. I was set up.”

Jeff scratches at his beard then looks down to his hands as they clasp together. “Here’s the thing. You ran. For four days. And we know you watched media. As an Agent – ”

“I quit,” he says immediately on reflex.

With an eerie calmness, Jeff goes on. “As an _Agent_ of the Freeze, you are obligated to report the possession of media.”

“Those movies weren’t mine,” Jared argues.

But it’s like he doesn’t have a voice in this discussion and his old boss continues speaking. “You are responsible for reporting those that you know to possess and share media. You are responsible for upholding the law justly and to mind those around you to do the same.” He eyes Jared, watches him take a deep breath and look away. “Now, from where I sit, you did none of those things. You possessed media. You watched it. You partook in the sharing of media.”

Jared looks at him. He stresses himself with a hard voice, “I didn’t _own_ anything.”

“Did you, at any time, have media in your home?”

He holds his breath, but won’t speak.

“Now, in your home, we found a handful of discs. They were discovered in your girlfriend’s dresser, correct?”

Looking away, Jared grumbles, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

He turns back to Jeff and presses on, “Not my girlfriend. She left.”

Jeff pauses, as if reordering his thoughts. “They were discovered in Sandy’s dresser. In your bedroom.” 

Jared remains silent, stubbornly refusing to be party to the conversation. 

Even when Jeff pushes, “Right? The discs were in your room? In her dresser.” 

He still won’t look over. 

It forces Jeff to lean closer and talk lower. “Jared.”

“I didn’t put them there.”

“I know.”

His head snaps up, eyes searching Jeff’s. Then he’s looking to Jake and he can’t detect a single thing in either of their gazes. They’re watching him just as intently, waiting for a response. “Wait.”

“I know they’re not yours.”

“Wait,” he breathes, “What?”

“They were Sandy’s.”

Jared suddenly can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t manage to look away. All of this trouble, him running to Jensen, hiding, putting Jensen in trouble, it was all because Sandy had media. Sandy, who called Jeff on him, who kept begging to meet him and help, who he’d loved for four years of his life and shared a home with. 

“She admitted she’d forgotten about them. Someone gave them to her a year or so ago. And she hid them right away so you wouldn’t find them. Then just,” Jeff shrugs oddly, “forgot about it.”

“Impossible,” he mumbles.

Jeff leans back, his palms rubbing at his knees. “So, the thing is … you ran and evaded agents, which is a punishable offense.” Jared’s mind runs quickly and he’s pretty sure it’s not a short term either. But he won’t say anything, he wants Jeff to lay it all out before he gets himself into more trouble. “Not a light sentence either. But you scratch our back, we scratch yours.”

When Jeff doesn’t say more and just watches expectantly, Jared clears his throat. “What do you want?”

“Your contact.”

He thinks immediately of Jensen and there is absolutely no situation that he can think of that would be bad enough for him to say the man’s name. And then he thinks of Jensen. If he says a single thing about their relationship the man will be in detention for the rest of his life, all the movies burnt in his front lawn, and the family that will never see him again. It aches deep in his chest then crackles down his back. He can’t and he won’t. His silence says so.

“Jared. You can avoid jail time if you just say the name. We’re taking your flawless record as an agent into account, and as a friend of mine, I’m trying to help you here. But you gotta help us.”

Jared clears his throat to allow the questions through, ones that wind through his mind. “Where’s Sandy now?”

“She’s in detention.”

“How long?”

“A year.”

He sighs and looks away, with tears burning in his eyes. But he keeps them in and asks quietly, “Is that permanent?”

Jeff looks to his hands, opens them carefully, and turns back to Jared with a small smile. “You help us, we can do something there.”

“Where’s Jensen?”

The man nods slowly, keeping a strong gaze with him. “He’s in Proper for the time being. Aiding and abetting a criminal.” 

Jared curses and closes his eyes.

“You hide anything over there?”

His head pops up, imagining the basement and all it held. “No, I didn’t hide anything,” he answers honestly. “Why?”

“We did a preliminary sweep after we brought him in. You tell us if something’s there and we won’t have to deal with an official search. Won’t have to put him out any more than he already is.”

Jared’s mind races at the possibility. So entirely thankful that they didn’t find anything yet, but he fears the basement being discovered. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says.

“You’re sorry, what?”

“I can’t,” he mumbles. “Can’t give it up.”

Jeff scoots forward, his voice going easy. “Jared, you realize you’re going to jail, too. You and Sandy. Jensen will get some time, too. You can avoid that by telling us.”

He feels miserable with the situation and he’s pretty certain that there’s no good answer here, that he can’t help everyone. But he tries his best to do what’s right, because while he thinks Sandy doesn’t deserve time for having a few discs someone else gave her, he _knows_ he can’t deal with the shame of giving up Jensen. “He didn’t do anything. Let him go.”

“Excuse me?”

Jared’s emotional and he presses on, praying his lies aren’t found. “Jensen. I was only there for a little while. I left long before he could do anything to help.”

“Jared,” Jeff nearly whispers. “You’re going to save Jensen?”

Tears break down his face and he nods. “He didn’t do anything wrong.” In Jared’s mind, he did everything right.

*

Jared spends a painful three months in prison, mostly solitary as Jeff does his best to give him a break and not be part of the general population. A Media Agent housed with hundreds of men who were busted for possessing the very item is a dangerous situation. He’s thankful for Jeff’s work behind the scenes to make it happen, but he’s still miserable. The thought of Sandy in jail, too, builds guilt he’s never known before. But the other side … to rat out Jensen … was more offensive to him and he refused to do it. 

Not seeing Jensen, not knowing what’s going on and if a permanent seizure was done at his house kills him deep inside and he’s emotionless the whole time. His only reprieve of depression is writing Jensen letters every day. They detail all the stories they’d shared on that TV in the basement. He doesn’t mention anything by title, but he crafts his tales as if it was something they experienced together, each character sounding like a friend. As he relives those plots and shows, he relives his time with Jensen and how much they shared. What the man meant to him, the trust they gave to each other without question, and the love that bloomed in those final days. 

None of his letters are answered, and a month in, they start to come back. _Return to Sender_. The seventh letter of that month has an unknown handwriting, _no resident by that name_. His heart sinks.

His mother visits, doing her best to pretend all is well and that there is nothing abnormal with the situation. Her tone of voice remains the same as she talks about what she does with her days, meeting with the cornerfolk and sharing the good news of government and travel. She tells him how Sandy is doing, and it’s alarming how easily she avoids mentioning where Sandy is, but still tells stories about how she’s still smiling and still getting by without Jared. But then he remembers how easily his mother removed his father from her vocabulary. Obviously, she’s unable to deal with real trauma and actually discuss it. He lets it go, just thankful his time is short and that she even bothers to see him. 

When he receives the letter noting that Jensen’s name is unknown at his address, he asks her to check the house and find out what happened. At the most desperate of situations, he asks her to check with the cornerfolk in his neighborhood. Two days later, she returns with no real news. The cornerfolk saw Agents and Propers at the house days after Jared went in. The very next a moving crew had carted everything from the house.

He cries that night, and every one after to think that Jensen was still arrested. The house has been unearthed of everything Jensen brought to his life, of their memories and time together. He wonders if he’ll run into Jensen inside, even for the final five weeks of his sentence. But his mother later tells him that word on the corner is his things were shipped out of town, that he was not being held in this center.

When Jared finally gets out, he’s alarmed there’re no burn marks on Jensen's lawn, no melted plastic or chips of discs coursing the land. He checks the back lot and finds it much the same way he saw it the night he ran out the back window. When he looks inside windows, he sees the same color on the walls but nothing else. The house is completely empty, void of any life. He edges open the same window he’d escaped from and tries to ignore the irony in breaking the law with this window yet again. He roams the house and there is nothing. He wonders if the Agents and Propers decided to destroy the media elsewhere, if they moved Jensen’s things immediately because of how much he possessed. 

The office seems smaller now, without any life in it, and the hatch is obvious to him. He’s not sure if it’s the absence of anything else in the room or just what it means to him. Jared drops down into the space and it’s dark, dank, hollow. It’s disturbingly quiet compared to the laughter that filled this room his last day here. He runs fingers against the wall as he pictures the posters on the wall for so many movies he never had the chance to experience. 

It’s when he gets halfway through the room that he sees it. Tucked into the bottom ledge of the shelves are five cases. Ones Jared knows with his eyes closed. Supernatural.

He kneels in front of them, spreads them out on the floor and stares at Jensen. The smooth face and the hard edge of his jaw. The depth of his eyes and crest of his hair. It burns, so deep it does, but he has to realize that with this motion, these discs, there’s a message that Jensen is safe. He got out, moved all his things before anyone got to him, and he left this behind for Jared.

*

The next day, he has half his house packed up – the important pieces anyway. He can’t stay here anymore. Not in this town, where everyone knows his business. They all know he wouldn't give up Jensen for Sandy, who is still in jail for another nine months. His mother pretends nothing’s wrong, but once in a while, he sees her judgment, her disappointment. He gets the house set for sale and moves himself into a low-cost motel two towns over, an area out of Jeff’s jurisdiction. The hotel smells in all the wrong ways and the colors are gruesome, but he knows no one of any respect stays in this place, and half the time they’re there for a one-hour rental with the latest affair. He doesn’t judge, though, because he’s there with his affair, watching Supernatural all day and night on his laptop as he remembers everything good about Jensen and all the smiles they shared, the hugs, how safe he felt in his bed and within his kisses. 

With calculated research and misinformation over the phone, he talks a not-too-bright government employee into giving him Jensen’s parents’ home address, but the phone number is unavailable in this age of cell phones. Jared writes letters, not quite daily, but he’s pushing it. He asks where Jensen is, how he’s doing, if they’ll tell Jensen he asks of him. Those, too, go unanswered.

It doesn’t deter him. He still spreads word of what his plans are as he waits for his house to be sold so he can use that money to relocate properly. He writes about every detail Jensen told him about his family, how his mom used to bake oatmeal cookies, alternating tiny chunks of apples with coconut depending on Jensen’s behavior. That his father took him to his first audition and stayed on set during his first job. How he took Mackenzie to the dollar theater every Sunday night while they were away at school. He tells them that every photo in Jensen’s living room featured one of the Ackles, and there were a few more sprinkled throughout the house. 

He tells them of the impact Jensen had on his life, opening his eyes to real emotions, to real friendship, and absolute love. That he aches to see him again, but he knows Jensen is doing what’s right, that he’s escaped the battleground and will never make himself known again. Jared tells them that he loves their son, that he doesn’t regret a moment he spent with Jensen, won’t ever forget him. Then he begs their forgiveness for the whole situation. 

Once the house is sold, he sets half of the earnings in Sandy’s name. He writes her a letter with the details and his own apology for not giving in to Jeff and helping to lessen her sentence. He tells her that media opened his eyes to the way life should be lived – with color and heart and laughter. And he needs to find that again, and he’s sorry it isn’t with her. But he also forgives her for her mistakes, and lets her know he understands how it happened.

With his half of the money, Jared takes the first train out of town, splurging for a private cab. He wants the long trip to afford him time to completely memorize every moment of Jensen in Supernatural because it’s all that he has. He makes plans to locate an underground supplier and find anything else Jensen’s ever been in, and commit those to memory as well. It’s secondhand memories, but he’s thankful there’s the option, because living with Jensen completely removed is unthinkable.

He’s nervous but excited to move, to go somewhere he won’t be watched or sought out. Jensen’s tales of Austin being freer, of the people sharing what they had and encouraging the appreciation hit him just so and he longs to have that. He has no idea what he’ll do for work, but he knows it'll come. He doesn’t know where he’ll live, but he’ll figure it out. The most important step at this point in his life is to get out of town and go where he knows everything will be easier. 

The Amtrak empties its passengers and Jared’s struggling with the few bags he brought. There aren’t many, but they’re heavy. He ambles down the platform, allowing elders and families with children before him. A young couple pushing a stroller gives grateful smiles and the wife sweetly thanks him. He beams in return, realizing that he can finally enjoy seeing families together and will never again tear them apart.

Jared shuffles through the train station, eyeing signs to lead him out to the main streets and he bumps into people the whole way, and he gives his expressive apologies, but he’s smiling the whole time. Because he got out, and this is the beginning of everything his life could ever be. He knocks once more and his grin and apology eases the businessman, but a hand is pulling at his other shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says as he turns, but it stops there. His lips stall and he’s staring, not able to form words because right there is Jensen and Jensen’s hand is going to Jared’s neck, trying to pull him in. Jared releases every single strap wrapped around his arms and crushes the man against him. “Holy shit,” he whispers into Jensen’s neck. 

The arms are tight, so tight that Jared’s not sure he can breathe, but it feels wonderful. Jensen suffocating him and touching him, and just being _right there_. There are no words, none at all. There are questions, so many of them, but he doesn’t want to bother with that. He just holds him tighter. One of Jensen’s hands cups the back of his head, holding him even closer. His voice is unsteady, emotional. “I didn’t think you were ever gonna come.”

He wraps his arms tighter, not wanting any bit of air between their bodies. He relishes the push of his chest against Jensen’s as they’re both still breathing so heavily. Moments tick by and he longs to see Jensen’s face, to see the smile. Jared pulls back and holds his face. His thumbs wipe moisture away from Jensen’s eyes. “God, you’re still … you’re you.”

Jensen’s palm touches Jared’s cheek then it skates down his chest and settles at his hip, fingers curling into his shirt. “How the fuck long it take you to get here?” he grits out angrily.

Jared laughs, the noise loud and bright. He hasn’t heard it since he last saw Jensen, but it’s still exhilarating. “I had to sell the house. And how in the hell’m I to know you’re waiting? You didn’t answer a single letter. Jesus,” he adds on with a huff that covers the break of elation at seeing Jensen. “I wrote all the time. I wrote your parents. No one said a word.”

His hands hold Jared’s face again, keeping their eyes on each other. “You think I could answer? I ran out of town before I could be labeled a criminal.”

“Yeah. Right,” he murmurs, not even knowing what to say.

Jensen leads him close and he inhales sharply. His eyes are wet and won’t move from Jared’s, no matter how close they are. “I read them. All the ones you sent my parents.”

Jared stares, unable to place the right words together. This moment is deafening and overwhelming. He doesn’t want to leave Jensen’s space and won’t, but he’s not sure how much longer he can be under his heady gaze.

“There’s nothing to be forgiven for. You did nothing wrong.”

He still lacks the proper response, but he loves Jensen that much more for saying exactly what he needed to hear. 

*

Jensen drives them to his new home, one block from his parents. He chuckles as they walk up, “They’re certainly glad to have me back around.”

“They’re not tired of you yet?” Jared smirks.

He eyes Jared with a biting smile. “Look who’s the funny man now.”

They share the load of Jared’s things, carrying them inside. This place, this space, is so much more what Jared sees as Jensen. It’s warm and earthy, comfortable and, best of all, well-lived. Pictures still fill the walls but the living room is packed with welcoming furniture and it looks like he actually spends time here if the slightly stained coasters and yesterday’s newspaper are any indication. Jensen mumbles, “Mama comes by every few days.”

“That’s cute,” Jared smiles then presses his hand into Jensen’s as they discover the home for the first time together. The back room, which looks more like a family’s den, is still the perfect space for a downstairs entrance, but this isn’t the hatch and it’s not so guarded. There’re still floorboards to lift, but the ladder is replaced by carpeted stairs and the space runs the length of the house, instead of just one room. Jared’s awed by the depth and is seconds from commenting on it when Jensen insists Jared must be hungry and they head upstairs to eat and relax. 

Jared roams the house once more while Jensen gets things together. He settles a few of his bags so they’re not just randomly lying around and he can remember which holds what of his things. It’s comforting to know that they’ll all have a place here. 

Jensen finds Jared in the basement. He sets the tray of food and drinks down, moves closer,and smirks. 

He’s pushing the cases into place just after The Simpsons discs and before Three’s Company, aware of Jensen behind him, but not saying a word. 

Jensen hovers and rests his chin at Jared’s shoulder with palms comforting his sides. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m good.”


	6. Timestamp: You're the Color of Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Bob Schneider's "40 Dogs."

The theater is tiny and claustrophobic, and Jared feels the walls pulling in tight. Keeping him and another fifty or so guests tucked into each other. It gets worse when the house lights go down and he’s unaware of where the space begins, where it ends. He’s used to dark rooms to watch media, used to Jensen right next to him while they watch TV shows and movies, or listen to music play as a background to their lives. _That_ he’s gotten used to. This … this theater and stage before him … it’s completely new to him. 

The curtain rises and stage lights turn up. Jared smiles when Jensen walks on stage, stares in wonder as people walk in and out of place, as they react so naturally. The energy of the actors in front of him in this small space is exhilarating. He’s not watching actors on screen, with a television set between him and the action to remind him it’s fake. They’re _right there_ , bringing words to life, laughing and crying, shouting and smiling. He can see it so clearly and it’s _amazing_

But in due time, the joy dissipates. For Jensen traipses through the play, angered and fierce, conniving and unabashedly mean. Jared watches with rapt attention, but then it’s in utter fear, seeing Jensen in this way. To see how convincingly he lies to people, the way his lips curl down and menacing, how he so quickly responds in terror. 

Jared flinches often enough that after a while he’s unaware of it still happening. His hands grip the armrest, reaching for Jensen’s hand, the hand he seeks out when he still has such a visceral reaction to media. When movies and TV shows still reach deep into his belly and gnaw on his nerves, he has Jensen beside him, to ground him, to remind him it’s all make believe. Right now, Jensen’s up on stage. _Jensen_ is the tight fist in his gut. He’s the reason for Jared’s fear, the reason he’s panicking. 

When the curtain falls, Jared’s inhaling air and then holding it tight in his lungs. He rushes out of the theater, down the dark underground hallway until he can reach the stairs, see the street level rush of cars and people and stores waiting for patronage. 

He threads fingers through his hair, tries to steady his breathing and focus on slowing the beat of his heart. He hasn’t had this kind of feeling within him since everything fell apart months ago, since he first had to face the impact of the Media Freeze in his own life. But this is different. There’s a corner of his mind that says he’s safe, that nothing can touch him here. Then something else edges in, replays Jensen’s performance, and he hears the hard edge to Jensen’s voice, sees the sharp tilt of his devilish grin, the angry grip of his fists as he fought his way through the evening. 

Jared stops, tells himself it’s okay, it’s just a show, it’s make believe. That isn’t the Jensen _he_ knows. Jensen’s job is to pretend, to be someone else … someone that Jared doesn’t know. And that scares him more, to imagine this other Jensen lurking just below the surface. That Jensen is _so_ good at his job, his career, because these pieces of him really do exist, and he plucks each personality out when needed. 

His mind reels, in fear of how easily these doubts have taken over his mind. He tries to settle himself, tries to get back to the present and what he already knows. 

A hand at his back startles him. Jared takes a deep breath, and on instinct he wants to run. But the hand rests warm, smoothing down to his lower back, and Jared takes another deep, steadying breath. He turns slowly, catches Jensen in the clothes he saw him leave the house in, but there’s stage makeup still dressing his face and his hair is still swept to the side as it had been throughout the play. It’s upsetting to see the two parts of Jensen right there.

“You okay?” Jensen asks, eyes intent on Jared’s face.

Jared stares, bites into his lips to stop the wrong words from spilling out. 

Jensen’s hand comes up to his face, holding carefully as he looks between Jared’s eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

He closes his eyes, hears how soothing Jensen’s voice is, feels how gentle his touch is. This is closer to his image of Jensen, a solid force to steady him, ground him in what this world really is. 

The other hand is there. Jensen holds Jared and brings him close. “Jared, what is it?”

Jared grabs Jensen’s elbows, grips tight as he works out a long breath. “You were … when you were up there ... ”

Jensen’s hands shift, easing up, and then sliding to Jared’s neck, holding with warmth. “Jared … come on, Jared,” he insists until Jared’s eyes open. When they do, Jensen’s face is close and his voice is soft and comforting. “Jared, you know it’s just like the show. It was all written for me. I just said it for the story. It’s not real.”

Yes, _this_ is the Jensen he knows. Easy and comforting, tender and calm. Jared finally smiles, albeit small, he at least feels warmed by the notion. By the feel of Jensen’s assurance, Jensen’s presence right here. “It’s just. It was so different. You were right _there_. Doing and saying all that.”

The corner of Jensen’s mouth twitches then he nearly frowns. “Yeah, it’s not like the basement with the TV. Right?”

Jared quickly shakes his head, hands finally easing up on Jensen’s elbows and smoothing a line down to his wrists. He pulls the hands from his face, but then turns their hands together, fingers twining. “Nothing like the basement. _Jesus_ ,” he sighs, realizing what it really is. 

All that raw power in the Jensen’s performance, in the others’ as well, being so close to Jared, acting it all out in person. The strength in their voices, their faces, their movements was unreal. Unlike anything Jared’s ever known … and when he first saw _Supernatural_ , he’d been blown away. But this is an entirely different monster. Watching it all unfold before his eyes, like it was happening on the street right now, like it was absolutely real and not something someone put on film. 

Jensen squeezes his hand, bringing Jared back to them on this street, back to their life together. His smile is nervous even while his voice is steady. “It’s okay, Jared. It’s … the theater? It’s supposed to be different. It’s live and can be powerful.”

“Yeah,” he sighs and finally lets his mind go, lets his words express his feelings. “Just, seeing you right there? Having it all hit me, but you weren’t there with me, you know? You were there for everything else and it freaked me out. I couldn’t pause it or have you tell me it was fake. Because it was _you_.”

Immediately, Jensen’s soothing him with his gentle voice. “It _was_ fake. It wasn’t really me. I was pretending. I was doing just to entertain. Okay?”

Jared nods, wanting so much to believe Jensen, knowing he will, eventually. Once this all subsides. “Okay. Yeah.”

Jensen turns, releasing a hand, but squeezing the other as he leads them away. “Alright. Maybe next time we try a happy play.”

He wills a small smile on his face because he likes that idea. A few steps later, he tugs on Jensen’s hand, pulls him back. “Hang on. First … ” he trails off as he reaches for Jensen’s head, his fingers flipping through the hair quickly. He pushes it over, forces it into something more closely resembling Jensen’s everyday style. When it’s to his liking, Jared takes a deep breath then a long look, and it’s so strange that it’s helping, but it really is. He sees _Jensen_ now. “Okay,” he softly smiles. 

Jensen tips up and gently kisses him, again squeezes his hand. As they make their way down the block, Jensen flexes his fingers between Jared’s, feels the skin and knuckles brush, and he smiles. “When we get home, it’s your pick. Whatever you want to watch.”

Jared smiles with bright eyes. “I’ll have to make this one count then.”

“Yeah, you will.”

He takes a deep breath, lets it rush out with a noise as if he’s releasing everything else that wrecked his mind in the last two hours. “Maybe something happy.”

Jensen smiles and squeezes his hand. “Definitely happy.”


End file.
